


Wasteland, Baby

by secretsidgenowriter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate POV, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Death, Friends to Lovers, Guns, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Killing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mention of Original Character's Suicide, Minor Character Death implied, Original Character Death(s), Sex, Shooting, Slow Burn, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25184203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsidgenowriter/pseuds/secretsidgenowriter
Summary: All the things yet to come are the things that have passedLike the holding of hands, like the breaking of glassLike the bonfire that burns, in worth, in a fight felt tooWasteland, babyI'm in loveI'm in love with youThe Zombie Apocalypse/Road Trip AU
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 82
Kudos: 140





	1. 37°20’13.8”N 121°53’ 01.2”W

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic in 2018 and for much of the past 2 years it has sat there ignored. It's different from what I envisioned it being and longer for sure.  
> This is a heavy fic at some points. People die but no one you know by name will die 'on screen'. I can promise that there is a happy ending for Sid and Geno that I would like for you to see if you stick with it.  
> I'll post a chapter a week, Saturdays around noon EST. This first chapter is by far the shortest and some of you might have read it already. They get longer after this.  
> I'll post more specific warnings in the end notes--which may include spoilers--and update the tags chapter by chapter. If you have any questions about what you're about to read feel free to ask.
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to my beta, Icedbatik. I couldn't have done this without you.

“Where is shadow?”

Sid stops short of the table and blinks. “What?”

“Shadow. You know.” Geno looks up from the menu. “Tall, big shoulders, blond. Look at you like you hang moon.”

Sid rolls his eyes and pulls out his chair. “Fuck off.”

Geno laughs and slides his sunglasses onto the top of his head. It’s bright out on the patio and he squints up at Sid. “I’m just ask. He follow you around like a puppy since we got here. Surprise he not follow you to lunch, too.”

“He’s just happy to see me.”

Geno sticks his tongue in his cheek and raises his brows. “I bet.”

“He’s young, okay? We’re friends. We don’t see each other a lot.”

“You have all summer together.”

Sid ignores him and picks up the menu. “So what looks good here?”

Geno ignores him right back and stares until Sid sighs.

“Nate said he’s not feeling well. He’s going to try to sleep it off before the skills competition tonight.”

Geno’s brows pulling together in thought. “I hear other guys say same thing. I think maybe they just try to get out of it.” He taps Sid’s shin with his toe beneath the table. “Surprise you not do same.”

“I would never,” Sid says and Geno scoffs. He doesn’t know where the rumor got started that he doesn’t like the All-Star Game. It’s fun. He has fun. It’s nice to see guys he doesn’t get to see all that often, especially in a low-stakes setting. Plus he’ll never say no to playing hockey, even though he’s sure that he and Geno will be booed when they take the ice tonight. Having the All-Star Game in San Jose the year after the Sharks lost the Cup to the Pens on their home ice feels a bit like rubbing salt in the wound.

“Do you feel okay?” Sid asks. Geno picks up the menu again and nods.

“Hungry. I hear this place has good sushi.”

Sid hums. Sushi is never his first choice but if that’s what Geno wants …

He’s just about to start looking over the menu when a sedan speeds down the street next to the patio. It blows through the red light at the intersection and sideswipes an SUV taking a left turn.

“Fuck,” Geno says. He’s twisted around in his chair to look and Sid gets to his feet. There’s a crowd gathering around the accident but no one seems to be doing anything.

“Call 911,” Sid tells Geno as he hops over the low railing that separates the patio from the sidewalk. He’s only a few steps away when the door of the sedan opens and a woman falls out onto the pavement. She screams, loud and bone-chilling, and she’s bleeding heavily from her shoulder, sweater soaked with blood as she tries and fails to get to her feet. A few people rush forward to help and then immediately step back as a second person climbs out of the car behind her. He hits the ground — hard — but picks himself up easily enough, clawing and growling at the woman. She tries to kick at his face, screaming and crying the whole time, but he grabs her leg in his hands and bites down on her calf, straight through the denim of her jeans.

Sid’s mind whirls as he tries to work out what he’s seeing. He steps off the sidewalk, only to be yanked back before his foot hits the road.

Geno has a vice-like grip on his arm as a car swerves down the street, narrowly missing him as it hops the curb before hitting a street sign a dozen or so yards away, glass breaking and metal crunching.

“Sid,” Geno says, voice tight and worried. He has his phone pressed to his ear and Sid can hear the operator on the other end asking what his emergency is.

Somewhere down the street a woman screams and a few people start to run in the opposite direction. Tires squeal a few blocks over and a police siren starts up.

The woman from the first accident is still on the ground. She’s silent now and unmoving. Sid doesn’t see the man who fell out after her.

“Sid,” Geno says again. The phone is down at his side as more people scream, closer this time.

“We have to go,” Sid tells him, “back to the hotel. Now.”

Geno nods. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Sid says as another scream pierces the air.


	2. 31°20’04.0”N 121°53’41.9”W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for chapter 2?  
> If you'd like, you could sync up this playlist for the rest of the fic.  
> 
> 
> Heed the newly updated tags and check out the end notes for specific scenes which do include some light spoilers.

It only took Geno five minutes to get from the hotel to the restaurant.

On the way back it takes them closer to twenty.

Geno navigates on his phone following the blue dot on Google Maps, yelling out directions to Sid, telling them to duck down this side street and that alley to avoid a blocked intersection with one car flipped on its roof and another sticking out of a storefront or a herd of panicked people all running the opposite direction. Running away from something.

They push through the revolving door of the hotel together, thankful for the relative safety that the hotel offers.

The lobby is crowded, even for All-Star Weekend, and people are gathered around the television by the bar. They have their hands over their mouths in shock or they’re talking rapidly into their phones, eyes wide and wild as CNN flashes familiar and horrific images from New York City and Boston and Chicago.

Paris. London. Moscow. Tokyo. Toronto. Madrid. Nairobi.

The news footage is shaky and amateur but it all looks the same. People are screaming and running. Other people are snarling and biting at the air, grabbing hold of the ones who don’t run fast enough and sinking their teeth into their necks, their arms, their legs.

There’s blood and violence and chaos everywhere.

Sid’s attention is pulled away from the screen as a police car flies by the hotel, sirens wailing. A few seconds later there’s a crash that shakes the building and those sirens stop as new ones start up in the distance.

Geno makes like he’s going to move to the door to go look but Sid catches his arm and pulls him toward the elevator.

“We can’t go back out there,” he says, pushing the up button with one hand and still holding Geno with the other. “We’ll be safest in our rooms. I’m going to find Nate.” The doors open and people pour out. “I’ll find anyone else I can,” he says as he pulls Geno into the now empty car. He forcefully pushes the button to close the doors then hits the ones for Geno’s floor and for his own. He only lets go of Geno when the elevator starts to move up. “Do you have a spare keycard for your room? I don’t want to wait in the hall.”

Geno nods and gives him the one in his pocket. He has an extra in his wallet that he’ll use for himself.

“I’ll stop at my room and grab some stuff then I’ll come meet you at yours, okay?”

“I can come,” Geno says, “I can look, I can find …” He trails off, like he doesn't remember who he’s supposed to be looking for. There’s too much going on. There’s too much to process even though they don’t know much of anything at all.

“No, no,” Sid says as the elevator jerks to a stop on Geno’s floor. The doors open and Sid sticks his foot in the opening to keep them from closing. “Go. Call your parents, call Tanger, call whoever. Call someone back in Pittsburgh, see what’s happening there. I won’t be long. I’ll be quick.”

“Sid — ”

“Go,” Sid says. He grabs Geno’s arm again, pulling and then pushing once Geno is through the doors. “Go. I’ll be quick.”

Geno stands there and watches the doors slowly close on Sid then looks up to see the numbers above them light up as the elevator moves. It stops on the eighth floor, where Sid must get off.

Geno’s legs feel like jelly and it’s hard to breathe, like he has water in his lungs, and the hallway that leads to his room looks like it stretches on for miles and miles.

He can hear sounds coming from behind the doors that he passes. People moving, people talking, televisions blaring. Crying, screaming, scratching, clawing, and groaning.

He walks faster, drops his phone in his haste to pull out his wallet to find his keycard then drops that, as well. His hands shake as he slides the card into the slot and he curses when the light stays red, realizing he has the card flipped the wrong way.

It works on the second try and the door unlocks with a click. He practically throws himself through it and slams it shut, locking the deadbolt and the latch lock. Then unlocks both, remember that Sid will be coming and he’ll need to get in.

Geno calls his parents first but the call won’t go through. He tries Tanger next but the line is busy. He tries Flower and Horny and Muzz and Rusty but it’s the same thing over and over. The call fails or the line is busy. He texts, begging each one to call him as soon as they can, then turns on the TV and paces in front of it as he waits for Sid.

There’s more footage now, shot from news helicopters that show the true scope of the chaos, and that more cities are affected. The ticker on the bottom of the screen lists off quotes from different world leaders saying they’re monitoring the situation.

No one knows what’s going on. No one has any answers. All Geno knows is that Sid’s been gone for less than five minutes and that’s far too long.

Outside, a police helicopter flies by, nearly clipping the balcony as gunfire erupts from the streets below.

Before he can go look, there’s a commotion in the hallway. Someone runs by, footsteps followed by a blood-curdling scream so severe that Geno can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman. It lasts for several seconds before he hears a thud and a long, agonized cry that clearly belongs to a woman. Then there’s more running — unsteady and unstable, like someone is running with a limp — and a crash like someone has hit the wall and fallen to the floor.

“Geno!” A voice calls out and Geno flies to the door, hands shaking as he yanks it open.

Sid tumbles in, his gear bag over his shoulder and his hockey stick in his hand. Geno closes the door and secures it with all the locks then turns to Sid and —.

Sid’s covered in blood. It’s splashed across his arms and face and staining his shirt.

Heart in his throat, Geno lunges forward, catching Sid by the shoulders. “Sid —.”

“It’s not mine,” Sid says quickly. He drops his bag and his stick. “It’s not mine. I’m — it’s not mine. I’m okay.”

“Where is Nate?” Geno asks, fingers tangling in the fabric of Sid’s shirt, desperate for anything to hold onto. “Where is he? Where is anyone?”

Sid looks up, looking nothing like himself. There’s fear behind his eyes and his face is ghostly pale.

“There’s no one,” Sid says. “There’s no one.”

“What that mean?”

“It’s just us,” Sid continues. “There's only us.” He takes a deep breath then throws a hand across his mouth and pushes past Geno to the bathroom, where he barely makes it to the toilet before he throws up.

Geno follows and lowers himself to his knees beside Sid as Sid’s body spasms and he gags into the toilet bowl. Geno rubs Sid’s back but doesn’t tell him that it’s okay or it’s all right. He just makes soft, soothing noises as Sid throws up clear bile. There’s nothing left but his body won’t let him off the hook.

“Did you call anyone?” Sid asks, voice hoarse and pained. “Did you talk to anyone?”

Geno shakes his head. “Couldn’t get through. I text though. Where is your phone? I call your parents.”

Sid gestures to his back pocket before he leans back over the toilet bowl and Geno pulls out the phone and flips through the contacts, all while continuing to rub Sid’s back.

He tries Sid’s mother first and then his father. When the calls fail to connect he tries a couple of friends he remembers Sid mentioning, then tries Taylor.

It rings, which is further than he’s gotten before, so he puts it on speaker and waits. After what feels like forever the ringing stops and a voice comes over the line.

“Sid!”

Sid lifts his head and reaches for the phone. “Taylor! Taylor can you hear me!”

Geno can hear her call Sid’s name again through the background noise and static.

“Sid! I’m — you — what’s going — Mom — call …”

“Taylor!” Sid shouts. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

There are more sounds, mostly garbled words that Geno can’t make out, before the line goes dead and Sid thrusts the phone at Geno, hand shaking.

“Call her back, call her back.”

Geno’s fingers slip across the screen, sweaty and nervous at Sid’s desperate demands.

The first time it rings until voicemail kicks on and the second time it goes straight to voicemail. The third and fourth times the call fails to connect and Sid falls back off his knees and leans his back against the shower door.

“Is okay,” Geno says as he pushes himself up. He sets the phone on the sink and grabs a hand towel. “Is okay, Sid. Is good. We know she alive, she’s okay. I’m sure everyone is.” He runs the towel under cold water then turns off the tap and kneels down next to Sid again. “Phones are just weird,” he says as he pries one of Sid’s hands off his face so he can wash the blood off his arm. It’s strange, thick and sticky and so dark it’s nearly black. He really has to scrub to get it off. “Too many people trying to call, can’t get through but doesn’t mean bad thing. Everyone okay.” He washes Sid’s other arm then lays a gentle hand on Sid’s cheek so he can clean his face. “They not call us, right? We can’t get through, they can’t get through. Is okay, though.”

Sid closes his eyes and takes deep, shaky breaths as Geno carefully wipes at a spot of blood by Sid’s left eyebrow.

“Is okay,” he says again and Sid nods.

“Okay,” Sid whispers back and Geno tosses the dirty towel into the corner of the shower so he can get both hands on Sid’s face.

“Okay,” Geno says again and Sid opens his eyes. They still look terrified and haunted but his breathing has evened out.

“Okay,” Sid says back and this time Geno believes it.

He soaks and wrings out another towel and lays it across the back of Sid’s neck then goes out into the main room and picks Sid’s bag and stick off the floor.

There’s blood on the blade of the stick runs slowly down the shaft. He leans the stick against the wall then sets the bag on the bed and opens it.

It’s been packed in a hurry, clothing rolled up and thrown in haphazardly with toiletries, a couple of candy bars, a small can of Pringles, and two bottles of water that Sid probably took from the minibar in his room.

Geno finds a clean shirt and Sid’s toothbrush then grabs a bottle of Gatorade from his own fridge. He mutes the TV before going back to the bathroom.

Sid’s sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees.

“Is no rush,” Geno says as he sets the toothbrush down on the vanity. He flushes the toilet and closes the lid so he can set the shirt and Gatorade down within Sid’s reach. “Might make you feel better.”

Sid is still for a long moment, staring intently at the shirt and the bottle, before he finally reaches out and takes the Gatorade. He uncaps it and drinks nearly half of it in one go.

“You want to be alone?” Geno asks when Sid makes no move toward the shirt. “Or maybe come sit in other room? Be more comfortable.”

Sid stares at the orange cap in his hand then runs the edge of it back and forth over his knee.

“When I got off the elevator,” he starts, still staring down the cap, “there was a woman running toward me. She was terrified. Just absolutely terrified.” He frowns and stops rolling the cap. “She didn’t have shoes on,” he says. “But she was running. She was halfway to me when she tripped and he was just there. He must have been behind her and I didn’t see him. He tore into her like it was nothing.”

Geno thinks back to the scream and how he must’ve heard her fall.

“I just stood there,” he continues. “I didn’t know what to do, I was frozen. I couldn’t believe it. But then he looked up and saw me. I guess he got tired of her or wanted more and he started coming toward me and I just …” He stops to take a deep breath. “He was almost on me when I swung my stick. I’m surprised the thing didn’t break. He fell and I ran around him and she was still alive, she couldn’t talk but I know she was still alive and I had to keep going. I couldn’t help her. I just ran away.”

“Had to, Sid,” Geno tells him. He’s glad he did. He can’t imagine what he would do if Sid never made it to the room. “Did nothing wrong.”

Sid nods slowly and recaps the bottle. “He looked at me,” he says, raising his eyes to Geno’s. “He looked right at me but there was nothing there. It was like he wasn’t even a human anymore. It was just vacant. Glazed. I couldn’t see a person in there. What the fuck is happening?”

“I don’t know,” Geno says, “but I’m glad you’re here.”

Sid eventually comes out of the bathroom.

He looks better, but there wasn’t much room for him to look any worse. He's wearing the clean shirt, he’s not as pale, and his hands aren’t shaking. He’s finished off the Gatorade and refilled the bottle with water and takes a long sip as he unmutes the TV and sits down on the edge of the bed.

Geno’s been taking an inventory of what they have to eat and drink and the results are discouraging.

Between his minibar and what he’s found in Sid’s bag there isn’t enough food to last them for any real length of time.

“I have more in my bag,” Sid says and Geno shakes his head.

“I already get.”

“No, in the front pockets. Unzip them.”

Geno finds three packs of Gatorade Energy chews, a granola bar, and a container of wintergreen Tic Tacs.

It’s not much, but every little bit helps.

Geno crosses the room to double check his bag, thinking there might be a few breath mints thrown into the bottom. The scene playing on the television is graphic and he shakes his head.

“How they show this?” he asks. “People dying.”

“What else are they supposed to show?” Sid answers. “This is all there is. Hey, look at this?”

Geno glances up and winces. On the screen there is a line of men in riot gear firing into a crowd that’s advancing toward them.

“I see,” Geno says grimly.

“No, look. They’re firing round after round into their chests and nothing, it’s not even slowing them down, but one hit to the head and they’re down. That’s it. Headshots. I guess I got lucky,” he says as he looks at his stick. “I didn’t know, I just swung.”

Sid watches TV, his elbows on his knees and his fingers pressed to his lips, until the sun goes down.

Nightfall does nothing to quiet the world outside. There’s still sirens and helicopters and people screaming. When Geno goes to lock the balcony door for the night he can smell smoke in the air, and when he steps out and leans over the railing he can see a building a few blocks over engulfed in flames.

They share a protein bar for dinner. Geno makes Sid eat even though he says he’s not hungry, and they both finish off a bottle of water.

“Keep these filled,” Sid says as he takes Geno’s empty and goes to the bathroom to refill them at the sink. “We should really fill up everything we have. The ice bucket, the paper coffee cups. Anything. Just in case.”

“In case what?” Geno asks.

“Just in case,” Sid says as he comes back out and hands Geno the refilled bottle. “We can survive longer without food than we can without water.” He looks at the packages of chips and candy and breath mints spread out on the table and sighs. “We should’ve saved that protein bar.”

“Had to eat. Didn’t have lunch.”

Sid hums. “It would’ve been nice if this all happened after we got our food.”

Geno huffs a laugh. “Yes, was looking forward to sushi.”

Sid makes a tight sound and Geno frowns.

“You weren’t?”

“It’s not my favorite,” Sid explains.

“Then why you agree to go?”

“Because I know you like it. You wanted to go.”

Geno shakes his head. “Too nice, Sid. Too polite. Next time we go out to eat you pick, okay?”

Sid’s answering smile is small and wistful. “Deal.”

It takes some wheedling to get Sid to share the bed with him. Geno doesn’t buy that he’ll be more comfortable in the chair or on the floor. He rolls his eyes and throws the covers back and tells Sid he’ll give him to the count of ten before he physically tucks him in.

Sid holds his hands up in surrender and toes off his shoes, makes sure his phone is plugged into the charger, then starts to climb in.

“You sleep in jeans?” Geno asks, and it’s Sid’s turn to roll his eyes before he takes them off and folds them over the back of the chair.

Geno shakes his head and laughs to himself. The world is ending outside and Sid still won’t leave anything in a pile on the floor.

“You know it’s rude to laugh at a guy who’s just taken his pants off,” Sid says as he settles down beside Geno. There’s still an ocean of space between them. It reminds Geno of when he was little and he’d have to share a bed with Dennis on vacation. They’d build a wall of pillows between them so they didn’t accidentally touch.

“Sorry,” Geno says, sounding anything but. “I remember for tomorrow night.”

Sid hums and they both fall quiet. In the dark the noises around them are amplified. The uneven footsteps coming from above, the scratching from the next room over, the screams from down the hall and outside on the street.

“Do you think things will be better in the morning?” Geno asks.

Sid rolls over to face Geno and Geno turns his head to look at him. The searchlight from another police helicopter illuminates the room and Geno can see Sid’s eyelashes fanning out against his cheeks before the light slides away.

“No,” Sid says quietly. He doesn’t offer an explanation or say another word.

Geno stares up at the ceiling, eyes trying to focus in the dark as all the sounds begin to blend together in horrific white noise.

He’s sure Sid has fallen asleep until he feels a hand on his arm, not grabbing or holding, just laying across his skin, like Sid’s making sure Geno’s still beside him.

Geno turns to look at him again but the room is pitch black. “Sid,” he whispers, “you know is going to be okay, right?”

Sid doesn’t say anything but his hand tightens briefly on Geno’s arm before it relaxes again.

Geno wakes up sticky, hot, and disoriented. It takes him a moment to remember where he is and that the noise he’s hearing isn’t part of a nightmare.

Sid’s still asleep next to him. He’s rolled over onto his stomach and his face is pressed into the pillow but his hand is still on Geno’s arm, grounding him and keeping him in place.

It’s tempting to fall back to sleep. He could kick the covers off like Sid’s done with his and pretend, for a little while longer, that the world isn’t falling apart outside their room.

But he has to piss and the sweat that’s pooling at the small of his back and the bend of his knees is uncomfortable and itchy and when a siren blares and guns pop outside it’s obvious that this is all too real to ignore.

Sid doesn’t wake when Geno slips his arm free and Geno sits on the edge of the bed for a moment before he gets up. When he reaches for his phone he sees that the digital alarm clock on the nightstand is dark and when he checks his phone it doesn’t show that it’s charging even though it’s still plugged in. He doesn’t hear the hum of the AC either.

The power must’ve gone out last night and for some reason the generators didn’t pick up.

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath as he gets up and hurried to the bathroom to test the sink.

The water still runs, thankfully, but he can’t get it to heat.

“Fuck.”

He can’t bring himself to take a cold shower, no matter how badly he needs it, so scrubs himself with a damp towel until he feels more like himself.

He hangs the towel over the rack to dry then picks up the one he used on Sid yesterday along with his soiled shirt. The blood has dried and when he holds them up he can see that it’s eaten holes through the fabric, leaving the towel and the shirt in rags. He searches in vain for bugs or rodents, anything that could have done this, but he finds nothing. It was the blood — something in the blood — that did this. His stomach turns at the thought of what would have happened if he hadn’t gotten it off Sid.

Careful not to touch the blood, he wads up the scraps of fabric and crams them in the wastebasket. He doesn’t need to worry Sid over this.

Sid has rolled over onto his back when Geno comes out of the bathroom. His arm is splayed out, reaching toward the empty side of the bed, and Geno can see the dark sweat stains under his arms and down the middle of his chest; his hair is sweat-flattened to his forehead.

Geno doesn’t understand how Sid can still be asleep but he also can’t understand exactly what he went through yesterday in the brief time they were apart. Stress and trauma can do a lot to a body.

Geno’s stomach grumbles but he ignores it. What they eat and how much they eat needs to be a team decision. Instead, he slips out the balcony door to try to get some fresh air; all he smells is smoke and the pungent, sickeningly sweet stench of rotting flesh.

The streets are littered with cars, doors flung open when their passengers decided to flee on foot. A few of them are flipped on their roofs and others are propped up on the sidewalk, like the driver tried to take a shortcut around the traffic but never made it.

The building that was burning last night is nearly ash but the fire has spread to the two adjacent buildings. The fires have drawn the attention of a large herd of people who stumble-walk into the flames, pushing mindlessly forward until they’re engulfed, one after another. Geno watches in sick fascination until a flash of movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.

He turns his head and watches something drip from the balcony above onto the railing. It only takes him a second to recognize what it is.

The blood is pooling on the railing and dripping down to the floor of his balcony, forming a small puddle. He looks up and sees the back of a hand sticking through the railing. It moves like it’s being pushed forward, inch by inch, until he sees a wrist, then a forearm, and then an elbow before it finally falls, tumbling end over end to the street below.

It hits the sidewalk with a smack that draws the attention of a group of stumbling people ambling around nearby. They descend on the arm, falling to the ground to tear it apart with their fingers and teeth. Geno hears someone groaning above him and, when he cranes his head to look up, he can see what looks to be a woman reaching out, arms bent and disjointed. There’s blood on her face and she’s gnashing her teeth at the air in front of her. She leans farther and farther out and Geno almost yells a warning to be careful before she falls, crashing to the ground with a stomach-churning crack.

The sound reverberates through him, echoing in his ears and rattling his bones so fully that he doesn’t hear the jets until they’re directly overhead.

Geno ducks on instinct as five military jets fly over in a small V formation, barely clearing the tops of the buildings.

They bank left and disappear from view and Geno decides he’s had enough. He slips back inside, careful not to wake Sid until he sees that the bed is empty and hears Sid moving around in the bathroom.

The bathroom door is open, so Geno walks over and leans against the frame.

Sid’s stripped out of his shirt and he’s brushing his teeth. He turns his head to nod to Geno before he spits into the sink.

“You know the power is out?”

Geno nods. “Happen sometime last night. Is why room is so hot. Miracle we still have water, too bad is only cold.”

“Could be worse,” Sid says as he rinses his toothbrush.

“You want to take cold shower?”

“I’ll take what I can get while I still have it. I think you should do the same. Whatever is powering the water pump won’t last forever. What was that sound out there?”

“Jets. Like military kind.”

“That can’t be good. It’s still bad out there? Be honest.”

“Bad,” Geno answers. “Real bad. Can’t even watch TV to see how bad.”

“That’s all right. It was getting depressing anyways. Plus, it’s not like they’re telling us anything new. Nobody knows anything. It’s all just a guess.”

“What’s your guess?”

Sid sighs and leans back against the vanity, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know. Nate said he was sick.”

“What kind of sick? Head, stomach? He have a cough?”

“He didn’t say. He thought he’d feel better if he went and laid down. He looked okay. He sounded okay. There was nothing to be alarmed about. I never thought —”

“Is impossible to think,” Geno says. “Who would think this?”

Sid shakes his head. “It has to be something neurological if they can only be killed by destroying their brain. But I guess it could also be some kind of blood disease. If it ate away at my shirt like that then who knows what it does to their organs.”

Geno frowns. “How you know about your shirt?” he asks and Sid rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t hide them very well. Why did you do that anyways? I don’t need to be protected. I can handle it.”

“You had bad day yesterday. Didn’t want to make it worse.”

Sid laughs. “Everyone had a bad day yesterday. From now on let’s just be honest with each other. No secrets, okay?” He holds his hand out for Geno to shake and Geno takes it.

“No secrets?” Geno asks. When Sid nods, Geno reaches out and pinches the skin just above Sid’s waist. “Then I think you getting a little soft here.”

Sid scoffs and pushes Geno’s hand away and Geno laughs.

“Now get out,” Sid says. “I’m gonna take a cold shower.”

While Sid showers Geno tries to steep tea without hot water. He uses one of the paper coffee cups and dangles the tea bag into the water, frowning as the color barely changes.

“Can’t have one nice thing,” he says under his breath as the water shuts off in the bathroom. “Was that you,” he calls to Sid, “or is water gone?”

“That was me,” Sid calls back. “Had to make it quick.”

“Cold shower is not so nice, huh,” Geno asks, looking up as Sid emerges from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“It was refreshing,” Sid says through clenched teeth, like he’s trying to stop them from chattering. He opens his bag and pulls out a pair of underwear. “What’s for breakfast?”

Sid drops the towel so he can get dressed and Geno looks away, losing his train of thought for a moment.

“Ah, was thinking maybe Skittles. Is like having fruit salad in morning.”

Sid laughs. “Sounds good.”

Geno tears open the bag and pours the candy out onto the table. “You have flavor you don’t like?” he asks Sid as he begins to divide the pile in half.

“They all kind of taste the same to me.”

“I give you purple then.”

“Don’t like grape?”

“Only in wine.”

“I’d love a glass of red right now,” Sid says and Geno holds up one finger and stands up.

“No wine but do have this.” He opens the door of the mini fridge and pulls out three miniature bottles of alcohol, two vodkas and one whiskey. He tosses the whiskey to Sid and cracks open the vodka. “Is not much but is something.”

Sid studies the bottle and shakes his head and Geno pauses with his own bottle up to his lips.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Sid says. “I mean, we could use it to clean a wound or something, right? It’s a disinfectant. It might come in handy.”

“What wound we get in hotel room?” Geno asks and Sid shrugs.

“I don’t know. I’m just thinking of every scenario. You can drink it if you want but I think I’m gonna hold onto mine.” He tucks the bottle into the front pocket of his bag and Geno sighs and rolls his eyes as he recaps the vodka.

“Fine,” he says, “you right.” He sets the bottles onto the table and sits back down to finish with the Skittles. “But I’m giving you green ones, too.”

Sid’s answer is drowned out by the jets flying by again, a few miles off but still incredibly loud.

They don’t move until the noise of the planes fades out then Sid slides into the chair across the table from Geno and gathers his half of the Skittles closer with the side of his hand.

Geno eats his candy slowly, taking sips of his weak tea between each Skittle.

“You wanna know the worst thing?” Sid says and Geno nods eagerly. He’d love to know what one thing Sid has decided is the worst. “This hotel has a restaurant, which means that there’s a fridge full of food that’s gonna start to go bad.” He pops another Skittle into his mouth. “What a waste.”

“What happens when food runs out?” Geno asks. “Or if water stops working? What do we do then?”

Sid chews his candy slowly. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out together.

The rest of the morning and into the afternoon drags on.

The room gets warmer and warmer but Geno doesn’t open the door to the balcony because the stench of flesh and the heavy smell of smoke has gotten stronger.

Geno gives in and takes a cold shower to cool himself down and, when he comes out, Sid has stripped out of his jeans and is sitting cross-legged on the bed in only his boxers and a T-shirt, digging through his bag.

“Getting casual,” Geno says and Sid shrugs.

“I couldn’t stand the heat anymore,” he says. “Ah! Yes!” He holds up a quarter then nods to the stack of cups on the counter by the coffee maker. “Wanna play quarters?”

They ease into the game, starting with the cup only a few feet away then slowing inching backwards across the room.

By the time they’re standing by the bathroom door Sid has lost enough times to declare that he doesn’t want to do this anymore and they should play cards instead.

“You have to have a deck in your bag,” Sid says. “You’re like, Mr. Poker Player.”

“Go look,” Geno says, flapping a hand in the direction of his bag before he flops face down on the bed. “Is too hot to dig through.”

Geno hears Sid unzip his bag and start to look through his stuff.

“Oh,” Sid says and Geno turns his head to look. Sid’s holding up a ribbon of condoms. “Were you planning on having some fun this weekend?”

“Is bag I use for travel,” Geno says as he turns his head back and buries it in his folded arms. “Is for just in case.”

“Well, sorry they won’t be used on this trip.”

Geno hums. “Don’t know. We here long, you might start to look good,” he teases.

Sid scoffs. “Start?” he asks. His tone making it clear that he knows he looks good and Geno whips his head around to look again, but Sid’s dropped the condoms and pulled out a pack of cards. “Found ’em.”

They play with fake money, different dollar amounts scribbled on the hotel stationery, starting with a dollar and going up to a million. They both know they’re good for it.

At the end, Sid ends up owing Geno more than a hundred thousand dollars. Geno agrees to be paid in installments, if that’s what Sid prefers.

It’s easier to get Sid into bed that night. After Geno gets out of the shower Sid’s already lying down, with only the top sheet covering him.

“How was your shower?” Sid asks and Geno shakes his head.

“Bad. Very bad. But feel better now.”

He climbs beneath the covers as the jets fly over again.

“Fifth time today,” Sid says. “What do you think they’re doing?”

Geno shakes his head and tries to get comfortable. “Maybe is good thing. Can’t worry about what we don’t know.”

“We don’t know anything.”

“Yes,” Geno says as he finally settles, “so maybe it won’t be hard to fall asleep.”

Sid turns so he’s facing Geno. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly. “I don’t know if I could handle this by myself.”

Geno lets the words set in and by the time he comes up with a response Sid’s already asleep.

The sound of an explosion wakes them in the morning.

Geno sits straight up, heart racing and disoriented.

Sid jumps out of bed and heads for the balcony, noise flooding in as he throws open the curtains and the door.

“G,” Sid yells above the sound of a helicopter. “Get out here! Look!”

Geno rolls out of bed, tripping over his shoes and bag. The hockey sticks fall to the floor as he stumbles out onto the balcony.

The first thing he sees is the military helicopter hovering over the building across the street. There are people on the roof with their arms over their heads, waving frantically, and the helicopter drops a rescue basket down to them.

On the street there’s a line of olive drab vehicles, the one in front fitted with a battering ram that’s pushing stalled cars, clearing the way. There are soldiers on the streets, guns drawn and ready. Some pop off a few rounds while others toss grenades down side streets.

Sid and Geno watch as the soldiers file into buildings and pull out the living before loading them into one of the trucks. They lean over the balcony in time to see them enter their hotel. There’s gunfire and another explosion but no one comes back onto the street.

“Get packed,” Sid says as he grabs Geno by the arm to pull him back into the hotel room. “We gotta go, now.”

Geno gets dressed while Sid packs their bags, throwing all the food and bottles of water into his bag. He even grabs the little containers of non-dairy creamer next to the coffee maker.

Geno gets his feet into his shoes but doesn’t take the time to tie them before he’s grabbing his own bag.

“Bathroom,” he says and Sid nods as he goes through desk drawers, grabbing a letter opener and tossing it in.

Geno sweeps everything off the vanity and into his bag. His razor, their toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, and aftershave. He tosses in the complimentary mouthwash, body lotion, and sewing kit. He even grabs the shower cap and throws that in, too. He takes the shampoo, conditioner and soap out of the shower then packs the bag with towels and the spare roll of toilet paper. Anything that isn’t nailed down he throws into the bag.

“Do you have everything?” Sid asks from the doorway and Geno nods, dropping the towel in his hand to the floor. The bag won’t zip if it’s in there.

“Got everything. See anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He hefts his bag over his shoulder. “Your shoes are untied,” he says and Geno shakes his head, moving toward him so they can leave.

“Is fine, no time. Have to go.”

All of a sudden they hear gunfire erupting from the hallway, so close it could be right outside their door. Geno instinctively ducks back into the bathroom, grabbing Sid’s arm to pull him back, too, but Sid yanks his arm free and reaches for the front door.

“We have to go,” Sid says.

“They’re shooting!” Geno yells.

“Not at us,” Sid yells back.

As quickly as it started the gunfire stops and Sid looks back over his shoulder at Geno for the okay.

Geno nods and slowly Sid opens the door and steps out with Geno right on his heels.

They come face to face with three soldiers, guns raised and ready.

Geno drops his bag as he raises his hands but they lower their weapons.

“Just you two?” the soldier asks and Sid nods.

“It was just us in there but I don’t know who might be in the other rooms. We’ve been hearing movement but I don’t know — ”

“Take the stairs,” the soldier orders, as the other two push past and venture farther down the hall. “Don’t stop and don’t turn around. We will leave you behind. Move it!”

Geno grabs his bag off the floor and pushes Sid forward. The stairs are around the corner from the elevator, not a far walk at all but, as the pop-pop-pop of the soldiers' guns sound off behind them, the distance seems to stretch.

They have to step over and around bodies, all oozing the same black, viscous blood that Geno cleaned off Sid and, even though he knows they’re not people anymore, Geno still feels sick to his stomach.

Sid pauses at the body of a shoeless woman. She’s covered in blood and her stomach is torn open so severely she’s nearly ripped in half. There is a single bullet hole in the middle of her forehead.

A few yards away there’s a man slumped awkwardly against the wall, face first with his arms twisted back behind him, like he didn’t even try to brace himself for the fall. There’s a wound on the side of his head that looks like it could match the blade of a hockey stick perfectly.

“Sid,” Geno says, flinching as guns go off behind them. He puts his hand on Sid’s back. “Have to go.”

Sid nods and Geno leaves his hand on his back, guiding him past the bodies.

The stairwell is already full of people filing down from the higher floors. Some look absolutely panicked, holding onto the railing with white knuckles while others move almost robotically, like they’ve already checked out of this reality.

Screaming and gunfire echo down the stairwell from the higher floors and the line momentarily stops to listen, giving them a moment to merge in between an older couple walking hand in hand and a young woman, barely out of her teens, whose eyes are shiny with unshed tears.

The line moves slowly and it feels like it takes them a lifetime to make it to the first landing. It’s hot and stuffy, too many bodies and not enough air flow and Geno feels on edge, like he’s just waiting for something else to go wrong.

“Fuck,” Sid mutters beside him. “Shit.” He stops then takes another step when he remembers there are people behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

“We forgot the sticks. I forgot our sticks.”

“So what? Who cares?”

Sid steps out of line, plastering himself back against the wall so he’s as out of the way as possible. “I have to go back and get them.”

Geno stops in the middle of the staircase and people split around him. “No, you don’t.”

“I’ll be quick,” Sid says, already stepping up against the flow of traffic. “Keep going, I’ll be right there.”

Geno follows, dodging elbows and insults. “Sid, no, they said don’t go back.”

“I’ll be quick, keep going down, I’ll meet you.”

“Don’t have a key, Sid.”

“You gave me one, remember?” He pats his pockets and pulls out the card. “Go, Geno. I’ll be fine.”

Geno makes to grab Sid’s arm but he can only get a handle on the strap of his bag. Sid shakes himself loose and makes a break for it, jogging up the stairs and out of Geno’s reach. Like a wave, the people coming down push Geno back.

“Sid!” Geno yells, “Sidney!”

Sid keeps going and Geno catches a fleeting glimpse of his profile as he turns the corner, still heading up.

Geno can’t fight against the crowd, there’s too many of them and they’re all too determined to get down to the lobby, so he has to turn and keep going without Sid.

The lobby is far from the safe haven any of them had been hoping for.

The windows are shattered and the TV and artwork have fallen off the wall. Every piece of furniture is upended and some of them even look like they’ve been burned.

Worst of all are the bodies scattered across the floor or hanging out of the broken windows. There is nowhere safe to look and nowhere clear of debris to stand and, as soon as Geno attempts to step out of line to wait for Sid, he’s pushed back into it by a soldier.

“Keep walking,” he orders and Geno shakes his head and tries to sidestep again.

“No, have to wait, my friend —”

“You wanna be left here?” The soldier asks. “Do you want us to fucking leave you here? Because I can make that happen. We’ll leave you to the walkers. Is that what you want?”

Geno thinks maybe that’s the better option. He can’t fathom leaving here without Sid.

“My friend —” Geno starts, but the soldier uses his gun to push him along.

“Move it,” the soldier yells, “Everyone keep moving, don’t stop.”

Once again Geno is pushed back into line, swept up in the current of people making their way toward the front doors and out into the street.

The sun is bright and the noise from the helicopter above is deafening. He’s still without Sid and as he looks back into the hotel, there’s an explosion that rocks the ground and sends people scattering for cover. Geno tries to get back into the hotel but he runs straight into Sid, who nearly drops the hockey sticks.

“Get to the trucks,” Sid yells over the noise, “They want us in one of the trucks.”

Geno scrambles to get his wits about him and runs for the nearest cargo truck. He throws their bags into the back and hauls himself up then reaches a hand out for Sid.

Sid gives him the sticks first and Geno tosses them behind him before he grabs Sid’s hand and hauls him up. Sid is heavy and solid and there’s quite a bit of distance between the ground and the bed of the truck so the energy they create sends them both flying backwards and leaves them sprawled out.

Sid pats at Geno’s shoulder as he rolls off him. “I told you I’d be fast,” he says and Geno’s temper flares.

He grabs Sid by the back of his shirt and shoves him back down. It’s dark in the truck, the canvas too thick to let any sun through but Geno knows he caught Sid by surprise.

Geno grabs him by the collar of his shirt and shakes. “For hockey sticks!” Geno yells. “You do this for hockey sticks! They so important to you that you would get left behind! They almost made me leave you! You would leave me for hockey sticks? Don’t you ever —”

Sid wraps his hands around Geno’s wrists and yells back. “They’re our only protection, they’re all we have. You want to leave here without something to fight back with? The only other thing we have is one fucking letter opener. Do you want to take turns?”

Geno lets him go and tries to stand up but Sid pulls him back down as an eruption of noise outside the truck is followed by more shooting. Stray bullets fly through the canvas, creating pin pricks of light that bleed through. There’s screaming as Sid and Geno crawl toward the back of the truck so there’s room for the influx of people who have begun to scramble in.

“We have to go!” someone yells from outside.

“We still have people coming!” someone else yells back. “We still have men in the buildings!”

“There’s no time! They’re coming too fast! There’s too many of them! We’re running out of time! We have to go, now!”

A moment later the truck pitches forward and Sid sways into Geno’s space. Geno grabs him by the arm and pulls them both up to sit on the narrow bench that wraps around the bed of the truck.

“I’m sorry,” Sid says. Geno can barely hear him above the chaos unfolding on the other side of the canvas. Screams and gunshots and explosions and somewhere in the background he swears he can hear the roar of the jets. “I’m sorry I left you,” Sid continues. “I won’t do that again. I promise. I swear it.”

Geno’s anger has ebbed away and fear has settled in its place. He doesn’t care so much anymore about what happened, he’s just relieved that Sid’s beside him now and that he’s not alone.

Geno covers Sid’s knee with his hand and squeezes. “We stay together,” Geno says, “always.”

Sid nods as the caravan makes its way out of the city and the sound of the jets gets louder and louder.

By the time they make it to the highway the first bomb has dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings for this chapter:  
> Blood. Sid is covered with blood when he gets to Geno's hotel room, Geno cleans the blood off him.  
> Vomiting- There's a brief scene where Sid throws up.  
> Death, killing, and gore- Sid describes seeing a woman being killed in front of him and then killing the zombie that did it. Later on we see the two bodies.  
> Guns and shooting-the military shows up to rescue people trapped in the city.
> 
> If you have any questions or need clarifications before or after you read my tumblr is [here.](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/)


	3. 39°25’16.3”N 118°43’19.4”W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter so I'm posting it now. The future chapters are longer so they'll be posted on Saturdays. 
> 
> See the end notes for warnings.

The military transport heads north using the southbound side of the highway.

The other side has turned into a parking lot of vehicles presumably owned by people desperate to get out of the city. They’re abandoned, just like the ones on the street outside the hotel, and Sid can’t imagine where all those people went. Why fleeing on foot was somehow better than waiting? How many of them turned? How many of them died? How many of them are running for their lives?

It would have been them, him and Geno, if they hadn’t been rescued from the hotel and their food had ran out. They would’ve had to take their chances out in the world, completely unprotected and on their own.

Beside him, Geno shifts on the hard, narrow bench.

“Ass asleep,” he says as he ducks his head to laugh.

It’s hot and stuffy in the back of the truck.

The canvas attracts and traps the heat of the sun and the only ventilation are the holes that the bullets ripped through it back in the city.

It’s not nearly enough.

The truck is overcrowded with people packed into every square inch, practically sitting on top of each other.

It’s not a smooth ride, the truck isn’t designed with comfort in mind and Sid’s tired of swaying into the person next to him each time the truck hits a bump. He’s too sweaty, too on edge. He doesn’t want to be touched, even if it’s an accident, even if there’s no other option.

Somehow he gets enough room to cross his legs and twist his shoulders. He forces himself into Geno’s space, which is more acceptable than being pressed against a stranger.

Geno has his limbs bent and twisted at odd angles trying to make himself as small as possible, a near impossible task.

Geno sighs and works his arm free so he can lay it across the back of the bench behind Sid, freeing up some extra room. It’s only a few inches at most, but Sid will take all he can get.

Sid sticks his finger through one of the bullet holes and pulls. It tears at a jagged angle, so he keeps pulling until it hits the line of rivets that hold it to the frame of the truck.

It’s a window of sorts, a small one, and Geno leans back to catch some of the air.

“Imagine how bad if this was summer,” Geno says.

If this was summer, Sid would be in Nova Scotia with his family and Geno would be … who knows where. Somewhere fun and colorful and loud.

They wouldn’t be together and that’s not something he wants to think about.

They get to get out and stretch their legs a few hours into the journey.

Sid’s had to piss for the past hundred miles and he follows Geno and a small group of guys down a slight embankment off the shoulder of the highway.

There’s no breeze. No fresh air. Just the blazing sun and the memory of the burning city they left behind.

Sid zips himself up and turns to look south, back where San Jose used to be. He had watched through the back flaps of the canvas as the jets dropped bomb after bomb and the fireballs rolled up toward the sky. He had felt the heat from the flames even from a distance and felt the ground shake from the back of the truck. He had been terrified that they weren’t far enough away and they weren’t moving fast enough, that the flames would catch up to them or one of the pilots would make a mistake and drop a bomb right on top of them. That they had escaped certain death in the hotel room only to be burned alive in the back of a supply truck.

Where Sid couldn’t look away from the destruction, Geno couldn’t look at it. He had turned away and Sid reached out and tucked Geno’s face into the curve of his neck. He could feel Geno’s hot tears against his skin as he rubbed his back.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that.

“Sacramento,” a voice says. The man is a few years younger than him with a blond beard and tan skin. There’s blood on the sleeve of his shirt. “That’s Sacramento that’s burning.”

“Is big city?” Geno asks. Sid jumps slightly at the sound of his voice.

The man shakes his head. “It’s the capital, but it’s smaller than San Jose.” He points to the west. “Reno is that way. I doubt that made it.” He nods to the two of them, eyes lingering on the Penguin logo on the front of their shirts. “Where are you two from?”

“Pittsburgh,” Geno answers. “Pennsylvania.”

The guy gives him a tight smile. “Long way from home. But I guess we all are now.”

“Let’s go!” One of the soldiers yells from up on the road. “We’re moving!”

They start back up the embankment, Geno first and Sid behind him with the man coming up last.

They’re almost to the road when there’s a guttural scream. Sid turns just in time to see the man being attacked. They grab him from behind, nails digging into his skin and teeth sinking into his neck.

The scream turns to gurgling as blood pours from the wound and he falls to his knees.

Sid’s horrified, frozen in a terrified flashback from the hotel hallway; he doesn’t see the others emerging from the tree line.

Geno yanks on his arm and suddenly the outside world comes back at a dull roar that echoes in his ears.

Geno is screaming his name while the soldiers order everyone to get back in the trucks. _Now._

Geno pulls Sid up onto the road but Geno’s strides are too long and Sid’s body feels uncoordinated and clumsy. He trips, ripping his jeans and skinning his knee on the asphalt. Geno’s there, immediately, picking him up off the ground and pushing him into the back of the truck.

Sid turns to look out of the makeshift window he’s created as the soldiers begin to shoot, but Geno’s there, hands wrapping around his face to turn his chin back.

“No,” Geno says. “No, no, don’t look. You okay?”

The truck begins to roll forward as Sid leans back out of Geno’s reach. He has room to do that now. He has room for his legs and his shoulders.

Not everyone has made it back onto the truck. They’ve left people behind. 

“Sid,” Geno says, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sid snaps, almost annoyed at Geno’s concern. He wasn’t attacked and ripped apart. He wasn’t abandoned on a lonely stretch of highway. His knee is skinned. He’s fine. “Stop,” he says when Geno tries to reach for him again. “I’m okay.”

“Not okay.” Geno circles his wrists with his fingers and Sid looks down.

He has dirt and gravel embedded in his palms. It stings, but so does the sweat that’s dripping into the road rash on his knee. It’s hard to tell which one hurts more.

Geno takes the corner of his T-shirt and gently wipes the dirt off his hands. He’s not bleeding, but his palms are red and sore.

“Better,” Geno says then looks down at Sid’s knee. “But still not okay.”

“I’m fine,” Sid says as he angles his knees away from him. “Just leave it. Please.”

Geno lets him go. He doesn’t try to touch him or talk to him. Sid’s thankful for it, but he misses it just as much.

The sign out front reads _Naval Air Station Fallon_ and it’s hardly the safe haven he’d been expecting.

It’s mostly parking lots and pavement with a handful of squat, tan buildings sprinkled throughout that blend into the desert around them.

Circling the compound is a chain link fence topped with razor wire. It’s not much, but it’s better than the hotel. It has to be.

The trucks kick up dust as they pull through the gate and it’s still hanging in the air when they’re told to unload.

Sid coughs while Geno pulls the collar of his shirt up over his nose. It slips back down almost immediately but he’s helpless to fix it with his bag and hockey stick in his hand.

There’s easily a hundred people who unload from the caravan and, looking around at the ones who are already here, it’s clear that civilians heavily outnumber servicemen.

A runway has become somewhat of a tent city, with service members bustling around and civilians standing around metal oil drums with fires burning inside.

There’s a medical tent marked with a red cross, another labeled _Registration_ and another labeled _Food_.

The rest of them are open-air with no sides and no labels, just row after row of cots, each one set with a pillow and a blanket.

“We sleep outside?” Geno asks. “Is cold.”

Sid shrugs. It’s cooler here than it was in San Jose but, right now, he feels like he could curl up under one of the ornately colored jets on display and be just fine.

They’re given a bottle of water and asked their names, which city they were rescued from and if they have any medical issues.

Then they’re asked as a group: If anyone had any contact with a person before they turned, please form a separate line.

Sid starts to step away when Geno grabs him by the elbow. Sid sways back, hockey stick nearly slapping Geno in the face.

“No,” Geno says.

“Nate,” Sid says back. “I was with him, I saw him an hour before ...” He heaves a sigh. “If that.”

“No,” Geno says again. “We stay together. Always together.” He lets Sid go, slowly, like he’s expecting Sid to bolt and needs to be ready to grab him again.

Sid takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay,” Sid tells him. “Okay, you’re right. Together.”

Geno nods, but Sid can feel his eyes on him as they walk to one of the open tents to claim their cots.

Sid picks one on the end so he doesn’t have to sleep with his back to anyone. Geno picks the one beside his and uncaps his bottle of water. He takes a long drink then unzips his bag and pulls out a white hotel towel.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to Sid and Sid blinks at him.

“What?”

“Sit,” Geno says again. Then he tucks the bottle under his arm and puts one hand on Sid’s shoulder and the other on his hip. “Sit. You don’t listen.” He guides Sid down then kneels down in front of him.

“What are you — no, hey, don’t waste the water,” he says before Geno ignores him and pours it over his skinned knee.

Sid hisses and kicks his legs out trying to get Geno to stop but Geno only doubles down and presses the towel to his knee.

“Dirty,” Geno says, tongue tucked between his teeth in concentration. “We leave will get all gross. Could get infected. Not good.”

“Thanks so much, Doctor,” Sid deadpans and Geno smiles, clearly pleased with the teasing.

“Yes, very welcome.” He pulls the towel away and nods. “Think maybe I have Band-Aid.”

“Keep it,” Sid says. “There’s a medical tent. I’ll go there.”

“Will you?” Geno asks, eyebrow arched, and Sid rolls his eyes. Geno knows him too well.

“Fine,” Sid relents and Geno squeezes his calve before he pivots around to look through his bag.

Sid watches him, eyes lingering briefly on the small of his back where his shirt has ridden up before wandering up to his shoulder blades and finally settling on the back of his neck, where his hair curls with sweat and the thick, black cord and fine gold chains lie just above the collar of his shirt.

Geno’s worn some combination of the three necklaces every day since they first met and Sid’s wasted plenty of time in the locker room staring absentmindedly at the way they looked against Geno’s skin. He wears them for protection and guidance — he used to fiddle with them, rub them between his thumb and pointer finger, when he first came to America. Sid used to watch him and think that he’d worry the finish right off.

Now, Sid wants to reach out and untuck the pendants from his shirt and run his fingers over the warm metal. Maybe they’d offer him the same comfort they used to offer Geno.

Geno turns back around, Band-Aid in hand, before Sid can make a move. He catches Sid looking and Sid shakes his head.

“No one knows us here,” he says, “no one even looked at us twice. No one recognized us.”

Geno snorts and unwraps the Band-Aid. “Think maybe they have more on their mind, Sid.”

“I know that,” Sid say, “I know, it’s just….have you ever been anywhere this crowded before and not been asked for an autograph?”

Geno shakes his head. “No. Might be nice if we weren’t so afraid of dying, you know?”

He smooths the bandage over the center of Sid’s knee, where the scrape is the widest, and sits back on his heels to admire his work.

The bandage is pathetically small, designed for a paper cut not a skinned knee but if using it will satisfy Geno, Sid’s not going to say a thing.

“All better,” Geno says with a smile that quickly fades when he sees the serious look on Sid’s face. “Still hurt?”

“We didn’t even know his name,” Sid says and Geno tips his head to the side. “The guy on the road.The one who told us about Sacramento.”

Geno nods and pushes himself up to sit on the edge of his own cot, elbows on his knees as he leans forward to listen.

“It could have been me,” Sid continues. “If I let him go first … it could have been me.”

“Or me,” Geno says, “I’m always last.”

Sid can’t think of anything worse and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to get the image of Geno getting his throat ripped out from his mind.

He’s nearly there when a round of shots go off on the far side of the base and everyone who’s been milling around stops to stare.

They’re shooting at a group of people pressed against the opposite side of the fence. Even from the distance Sid can tell they’re no longer human.

“Where are they coming from?” Sid asks as he turns his head to look around at the desert that surrounds them. “There’s nothing out here.”

“There’s actually a town about six miles that way.”

Sid looks up, following the voice.

The guy is tall and rail thin with black, skinny jeans and dusty black boots. He’s wearing a sweater, a grey toque, and thick, black-rimmed glasses. Tanger would call him a hipster.

“These idiots are too fucking stupid to realize that the more noise they make the more walkers they attract, so every time they shoot a bunch of them up they’re just calling for more.” He scoffs, fingers tightening on the silver pouch he’s holding as he waves a fork around in his other hand. “Assholes.”

“Walkers,” Geno says. “I heard that before back at the hotel. Is what they call them?”

“I guess so,” the guy says. He sticks the fork into the pouch and digs around. “That’s what I’ve heard. I guess it’s because they just keep walking?” he says, shoulders raised slightly like it’s a question. “Look at ’em, even when they know they’re gonna be shot, even when they’re pressed against the fence with nowhere to go, they keep walking.” He pulls the fork out of the pouch and examines the four elbow macaroni covered in some kind of brown sauce that are speared on the tines before sticking it in his mouth. “It’s crazy. So, where’d they bring you guys in from? You’re with the group that just came in, right?”

Sid nods. “San Jose.”

The guy whistles. “Not much left of that, huh? Not much left of anything. I’m from Reno, or, just outside it. They brought me and a few others in yesterday.”

“So soon,” Geno says. “Right after everything starts.”

The guy shrugs. “I think they always knew what they were going to do. It’s a lot easier for them to bomb the hell out of a place and call it saved than it is to actually go in and save people. They got as many people out as they could, probably, but I know they left behind a ton. I’m Sean, by the way.” He doesn't make a move to shake their hands.

“I’m Sid,” he says before nodding to Geno. “He’s Geno.”

Sean hums and goes back to eating. “Welcome,” he says around a mouthful of pasta.

“You sleep outside okay?” Geno asks. “Why we not inside? Lots of buildings.”

“All full,” Sean says. “Families are taking up a few, elderly, kids under eighteen, people with medical conditions. Everyone else is out here. It’s not so bad. It's cold at night but they keep the fires in those barrels going so you can warm up, and if you’re lucky you’ll be by a space heater. If not ...” He trails off with another shrug. “Maybe you can trade with someone for their blanket.”

“Trade what?” Geno asks and Sean winks at him. It immediately sets Sid on edge.

“Whatever you got. Anyways, you guys should go get some food in the mess tent before all the good options run out. Today they have macaroni and cheese, beef goulash and … something else. I forget.”

“Is that the goulash?” Sid asks and Sean shakes his head as he holds the pouch back to look at it.

“No, actually I think this is the macaroni and cheese.” He wrinkles his nose. “Ugh. At least it’s food though, right?”

He starts off, pausing briefly when the shooting starts again, and shakes his head. “Fucking unbelievable,” he mumbles before he keeps walking.

“We should get some food,” Sid says but when he looks across the aisle at Geno, Geno is watching Sean walk away. “We haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he says, louder this time, and Geno finally turns to face him.

“So hungry I forget I’m hungry,” Geno says as he gets to his feet. He holds his hand out like he wants to help Sid up and Sid ignores it.

He’s fine. They’re both fine.

Sid doesn’t get lucky. Neither does Geno.

The closest space heater is a few rows away and, as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the temperature begins to drop as well.

Sid pulls on every bit of clothing he owns and tries to get warm enough to fall asleep. Across from him Geno has the sleeves of his shirt drown down over his hands and the blanket tucked under his chin. The entire cot shakes as he shivers.

“Geno,” Sid whispers. “Hey, bud, come over here.”

Geno looks up, eyes bright in the dark.

“It’ll be warmer if we get closer.”

“Don’t think we both fit on one cot.”

“No,” Sid says as he sits up. “Just drag your cot closer to mine. Or I’ll come over there. It doesn’t matter.”

Geno takes a deep breath before he pushes himself up and pulls his cot over to Sid. Sid rolls over on his side and lifts Geno’s blanket so it’s easier for him to slide under.

They both inch to the edge of their cots, meeting in the middle so their blankets overlap. It’s better. For someone who claims he’s cold all the time Geno throws off a lot of heat and Sid nearly hooks his own leg over Geno’s just to pay him back.

“Warmer,” Geno says. They’re close enough that Sid can feel Geno’s breath fan against his face. “But still cold.”

“I know,” Sid says as he tucks his folded hands to his chest. “I know.”

Their cell phones die after the first week so Sid starts keeping track of the days on the hotel notepad.

It gives him something to do, it’s a way to keep his mind active, the counting and mapping. Weeks pass and then months. The weather gets warmer, ticking up into the sixties and low seventies if they’re lucky. The sun gets stronger, and they’re given sunscreen that smells heavily of chemicals but doesn’t slide off when they sweat.

Sid starts running laps around the perimeter either early in the morning or later on in the evening when the weather is the coolest. He spends most of the day under the tent and out of the sun, getting more and more restless as the days pass.

Others are more active, kicking a found soccer ball around the dusty yard in the peak hours. Geno joins them on occasion. Sean, too. He’s surprisingly athletic despite his slim frame and he and Geno come back looking flushed and out of breath.

“You’re going to get heat stroke,” Sid says, not looking up from the notebook. It’s Tuesday, April 10th. Sid’s ninety percent sure.

“Is not so bad,” Geno says as he pushes a lock of sweaty hair off his forehead. He sits down on his cot and Sean sits down beside him, their knees pressed together.

It’s been happening a lot. When they play a game of poker or share a meal. Sean has been in their orbit more and more, always next to Geno, always subtly touching.

It doesn’t mean anything. It _probably_ doesn't mean anything.

Athletes are tactile. He and Geno spend the nights practically spooning for warmth and that doesn’t mean anything either.

It has absolutely nothing to do with Sid’s restlessness with staying on the base. He has plenty of other reasons for that.

About a month ago they cut them back from three meals a day to two, making Sid feel less paranoid and more vindicated that he’d been squirreling away every MRE he got for lunch in his bag. The soldiers are looking more and more tense and the number of walkers showing up outside the fence grows by the day and they’ve limited the showers from five minutes to three.

Something is happening, something is going to happen, and Sid doesn’t want to be caught off guard when it does.

Geno however, seems unbothered, chatting with Sean until Sean stands and says his goodbyes.

“See you later,” Geno says and Sid mumbles out a similar yet halfhearted farewell of his own.

He waits until Sean is out of earshot before he speaks again. “You two are close.”

Geno hums and digs under his cot for the romance novel he traded a travel-size bottle of mouthwash for. “He’s cool. Was an athlete in high school. Did track.”

“Ah,” Sid says as Geno grabs his book, kicks his legs up, and lies back. “How is Lady Elizabeth or whatever?”

Geno peers at him from over the top of the book and Sid nods.

“Is Lady Charlotte and she just get kidnapped by pirates. You want to read next? Is good.”

“I think I’m good but thanks.”

“Okay,” Geno sing-songs. “Let me know if you change mind.”

Sid smiles. Maybe he’s reading too far into things. Maybe he’s just looking for something that’s not there. A problem he can solve. It’s like he’s scanning the ice and trying to right a wrong that hasn’t even happened yet.

Right now they’re a long way from the rink and his alternate doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest. Sid’s not about to worry him for no reason.

They last another three weeks before all hell breaks loose.

It’s late but the moon is bright and Sid can see every eyelash spread out against Geno’s cheek as he sleeps beside him.

It’s getting warmer at night. Soon they won’t need each other for heat but Sid’s not going to be the first one to stop it. He likes knowing Geno’s there. He likes keeping him close. If something should happen —

Geno jerks awake as soon as the first scream rings out. He looks to Sid first, eyes wide, and Sid’s heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline already pumping.

“What was —” Geno begins to ask, but he’s interrupted by another scream coming from inside one of the buildings, Sid thinks it might be the one used to house the families.

Suddenly the doors burst open and there are people running everywhere, civilians running out as soldiers run in. The first shot echoes around the base and everyone everywhere freezes.

Geno is holding the edge of his blanket, getting ready to throw it off his legs, and Sid wants to reach for him but his body feels weighed down with dread. He knew this was coming. He could see it from a mile away. Why is he so shocked?

There’s a second shot and then a third and everything is thrown back into motion as Geno tears off the blanket and hops off the cot.

“Sid,” Geno barks and Sid snaps out of it. He untwists his own blanket from his legs and gets up.

No one seems to know what to do or where to go. They all look like they’re waiting for instructions while the world collapses around them.

He and Geno know better. If they had stood by and waited on the street in San Jose when everything first began to unravel they wouldn’t even have made it back to the hotel.

“Sid,” Geno says and Sid follows his eye line over to the fence.

The moonlight makes it easy to see the mass of walkers pushing against it.. The metal sways and bends as they press forward.

“They’re gonna break through,” Sid says. “There’s too many of them. They can’t ...” He trails off as more shots go off inside the buildings. Whatever is going on in there has everyone’s attention. There is no one outside to protect them. “We have to go,” he says as he ducks down and grabs his bag and hockey stick from beneath the cot. When he stands back up Geno already has his in his hand. “We have to go,” he repeats as he looks around wildly. He doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t know which direction to run.

“Front gate,” Geno says. He hefts his bag onto his shoulder and holds the stick in his left hand so he can cup Sid’s elbow with his right. “Front gate is easiest I think. I’ve been looking. All gather over that spot, don’t know if it’s smell of dead walkers or just noisiest spot...front gate is usually clear.”

“You’ve been looking,” Sid parrots as Geno tugs him forward.

Geno nods as he leads him through the chaos to the front gate. “Been thinking maybe something will happen, want to have a plan. Didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to scare you.”

Sid wants to laugh or cry or drop everything and throw his arms around Geno but he can’t do any of that because Geno keeps them moving at a swift pace, even when there’s a roar of noise behind them and Sid can smell smoke in the air.

Sid turns to look but Geno wraps an arm around him and shoves him toward the front gate. “Don’t look,” Geno says. “Don’t look back. Just get over.”

There’s a bar that runs horizontal to the ground about halfway up the gate that he can use as a toehold but the razor wire lining the top glints in the moonlight.

Geno apparently has a plan for that too because he unzips the bag and pulls out one of the towels he took from the hotel. He tosses his bag and stick over the fence then pulls himself up onto the fence and loops the towel around the razor wire.

“Will help,” Geno says as he hops back down. “Maybe. Have to go.” He grabs the bag and stick out of Sid’s hands and throws them over then pushes him toward the fence. “Up,” he orders, “go.”

“You first,” Sid says and Geno shakes his head.

“No,” Geno shouts. “You go, I’m just behind.”

“I want you —” Sid starts but Geno grabs him roughly about the shoulders and spins him around.

“Sid,” he bites out. “You climb or I pick you up and throw you like I throw bags. Move.”

Sid climbs using every bit of strength he has to scramble over the fence. The towel doesn’t do much, the sharp metal tears at his shirt and skin but there’s nothing he can do about it. He can’t stop or jump back down. Geno is behind him and he desperately needs him to get over the fence.

He’s able to wiggle free of the wire and and drops inelegantly to the ground. A moment later Geno drops to the ground beside him and Sid reaches out and pulls him for a hug.

Over Geno’s shoulder he finally sees the destruction that they left behind.

The entire base is on fire, completely engulfed in flames that just barely drown out the screams of the people still trapped inside.

Sid coughs as the wind changes direction and they’re hit with a wall of smoke. Geno gets to his feet first.

“Have to go,” he says, leaning down, lips close to Sid’s ear so he can be heard over the noise.

“Where?” Sid asks.

Geno doesn’t answer, just picks up both their bags and pulls Sid to his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original character deaths- Sid and Geno have a brief conversation with a man who is then killed by a zombie. Warnings for blood and gore here as well.   
> Toward the end of the chapter the base is overrun with zombies and Sid and Geno are the only ones to make it out alive. The deaths of the others on the base are not described at all. 
> 
> If you have any questions my tumblr is [here](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/).


	4. 42°33’00.1”N 108°44’34.8”W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here we go. 
> 
> As always, heed the tags and check the end notes for more specific warnings.

By morning there is nothing left of the base but ash and rubble.

They had watched it burn through the night, sitting side by side in the sand as the screams gave way to silence as buildings collapsed in on themselves.

There is no one left, at least no one living. Sounds of snarls and growls carry on the wind and as the sky brightens they can clearly see the burned forms shuffling through the debris.

“We should go,” Sid says and Geno knows he’s right. He knows the winds will change and the walkers will find their way back out from where they came in and when they do he and Sid are the only ones with fresh flesh and blood in the vicinity, possibly — probably — for miles.

The back of Sid’s neck is bleeding and Geno can feel the sting of sweat seeping into the cuts on his own back.

They’re a mess, but they’re alive. They’ve come so far but they have so far to go.

He remembers Sean telling them about a town not too far off and he orients himself and tries to remember the direction in which Sean had pointed.

“This way,” he tells Sid. “Up. Have to walk.” Geno pushes himself to his feet and picks up his bag and stick. “Sid. You say we go, so we go. Up, up.”

“I froze,” Sid says, still sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around his knees. “You needed me and I froze. I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”

“Sid,” Geno says with a sigh, “is okay.”

“No, it’s not. I could’ve gotten you killed.”

Geno sighs with more vigor and rolls his eyes. “Sid. Is not like that. You get scared, so what? I get scared too. Is okay.”

“It’s not,” Sid insists and Geno throws his head back and looks up at the clear blue sky. They can’t be arguing like this, not right now.

“Is like in game,” Geno says, making an attempt to come at this from another angle. “If you hurt, I step up, if I’m hurt, you step up. We there for each other. Have each other’s backs. Is what we do.”

Sid takes a deep breath and nods. Geno smiles to himself. He knew bringing up hockey would strike the right nerve. Sid stands then looks around in all directions.

“This way,” Geno says, pointing to the road that leads away from the base. “I’m think.”

The land is flat and even and the air is dry so the walk into town is easy.

Geno’s sure his cuts have stopped bleeding but the blood has dried and is sticking to his shirt and skin, pulling uncomfortably every time he shifts his weight.

He’s sure it’s happening to Sid, too.

They both need to get cleaned up. They need water and shelter and food. They need a real plan for the rest of their lives, however long that might be. But for now, all they can do is keep walking.

There’s not much to see in this corner of Nevada.

Hills in the distance, well-worn pavement beneath their feet, and cars and trailers along the side of the road, abandoned long before the world began to end.

Still, Sid makes them stop and look in each one.

“We could find something we need,” he says as he opens the door of a rusted-out Volkswagen that nearly falls off in his hand

“Like tetanus,” Geno says back, wrinkling his nose as Sid begins to rifle through the glove compartment.

He doesn’t find anything useful. It’s mostly garbage. Candy wrappers, a plastic cup from McDonald’s, its logo faded and its lid missing, a plastic shopping bag with a gaping hole in the bottom.

Sid keeps looking, though, thoroughly inspecting each car and trailer like he expects one of them to hold all the answers as to why the world went to shit.

He grins like a maniac when he finds a nail file and tucks it carefully into his bag next to the empty water bottle and bungee cord that he found.

They keep walking. They’re miles away from the base and, up ahead, Geno can see buildings, actual, modern buildings, not the run-down shacks they’ve been passing.

He thinks maybe it could be a mirage. The sun is strong on their backs and he’s thirsty and hungry but too afraid to eat or drink. They should save what they have. Things could get so much worse.

He blinks away the sand and grit that’s blown into his eyes, trying desperately to clear them so he can figure out if what he’s seeing is real or fake.

“Hey,” Sid says, “look at this.”

A dozen yards ahead there’s a silver SUV sitting at an angle in the middle of the road. It’s different from the rest. It isn’t rusted and the tires aren’t deflated.

They set their bags down on the road and hold their hockey sticks like baseball bats as they approach, Geno on the passenger side and Sid on the driver’s.

There’s a bag on the back seat, a dark purple backpack that looks packed to capacity. The passenger seat is empty but there’s a woman in the driver’s seat. She’s completely still and slumped over the center console, brown hair hanging in front of her face. Geno taps on the window with the end of his stick and suddenly she comes alive — again — and lunges for him, bony fingers extending across the distance. The seat belt she’s wearing jerks her back but she keeps trying, biting at the air and swinging her arms.

“Should go,” Geno says over the hood of the car but Sid practically has his face glued to the driver’s side window. He’s drawn the attention of the woman and she slaps frantically at the glass, teeth bared.

“Look,” Sid says and Geno shakes his head as he walks around the front of the car.

“Don’t think I want to.”

“No.” Sid holds his arm around toward Geno and Geno rolls his eyes and steps forward. “Look. Down there. Between the seat and the dashboard. See that? It’s a lanyard. Those are probably the keys. She must have knocked them out or taken them out.”

Geno stands on his toes to look over Sid’s shoulder. He spots a piece of tie-dyed fabric wedged between the seats but his attention is ripped away from it when Sid tries to open the door.

Geno bats Sid’s hand away and gets between him and the car. “What you thinking, Sid?”

“I’m thinking we’re gonna need a car.”

“Not with undead girl inside. We find another.”

“Do you know how to hotwire a car?” Sid asks and Geno shakes his head. “Neither do I, at least not in practice. We’re lucky to find this, we can’t ignore it and hope that maybe we’ll find something better somewhere down the road. It’s only going to get hotter and it’s a long way out of the desert in every direction. We won’t make it on foot.”

Geno hates that Sid’s right. Absolutely hates it, but he nods and steps away so Sid can open the door.

The handle moves but the door doesn’t open and Geno claps his hands.

“Door’s locked, let’s go!”

“Hold on, hold on,” Sid says as he walks over to the edge of the road and kicks at a chunk of torn up pavement. It breaks into several smaller pieces and Sid uses his stick to corral them and pushes them back toward the middle of the road. “We can break the glass.”

“So we have car with broken window?”

Sid grins and lines up his first shot. “I think you’re just afraid I’ll break it before you will,” he says before he pulls the stick back and follows through. The pavement hits the glass and chips it before it bounces off.

“Got it started for you,” Sid says. “You wanna give it a go?”

Geno shakes his head but steps up to the challenge, picking out his lump of pavement. It’s been so long since he’s done anything hockey-related.

His shot cracks the window in a spiderweb pattern radiating out from where the pavement hit. It would be easy to break the rest of the glass with the end of their sticks but they each take one more shot just for fun. The feeling is short-lived as the glass falls away and they get a clear view of the woman.

Her skin is the color of a bruise, different shades of green and purple and yellow, and her cheekbones stand out so severely that they look like they’re about to burst through her skin. Her eyes are cloudy, her hair is patchy and falls out in clumps each time she lurches forward, and her fingernails are nearly black. It’s obvious she hasn’t eaten in a while.

“What do you think happened?” Sid asks and Geno shrugs. It’s hard to look at her straight on.

“Probably pack up and try to get out but get sick while driving. Happen so fast. We should ...” He gestures to her and Sid nods. She’s been suffering for too long.

Sid takes a deep breath and steps back so he can raise his stick.

“Wait!” Geno yells and Sid freezes and turns around. “Let me.”

“Are you sure?”

Geno nods and steps up. “Yes, am going to have to do at some point. Now is good time to start.”

He gently pushes Sid out of the way with the blade of his stick and blows a breath out from between his teeth as he squares his shoulders.

“It shouldn't take much,” Sid says softly. “Just one hit. Make sure you get her head.”

Geno turns to look back at Sid. His face is pinched and tight.

“We have to,” Geno says. “You right, we have to. Need the car.”

Sid nods and Geno takes a deep breath to calm himself before he turns around, gets a good grip on his stick, and swings.

There’s a half-tank of gas in the car and a metal baseball bat on the floor of the passenger seat with dried blood on the barrel.

Geno picks it up and chokes up on it, testing out his grip before he swings. There’s more control with the bat than there is with his hockey stick. More power, too.

“Think I’m going to use this,” Geno says, sticking his head into the back seat, where Sid’s going through her belongings.

“Find anything good?”

“Not yet,” Sid says as he pulls out another handful of clothes. “She kinda just threw everything in there at once. A pair of running shoes. A lot of socks.”

“She packed in a hurry,” Geno says, “but socks can be good.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’ll fit us,” Sid says as he holds up a hot pink pair that looks about six sizes too small. “Ah. Here we go.” He pulls out a toiletry bag and unzips it. “Shampoo, conditioner, deodorant.”

“Am going to need that,” Geno says and Sid hums and continues to look.

“A razor, lotion, toothpaste, a tooth brush, body wash and one of those poof things,” he says as he holds up a blue loofah. “Not really lifesaving stuff.”

“Here,” Geno says as he grabs her purse from the passenger seat and drops it onto Sid’s lap. “You check that, I’ll look in the back.”

“Hand sanitizer,” Sid says before Geno can even open the hatch. “Pepper spray, a pocket knife.”

“There you go,” Geno says. “She keep what was important close.” He pops the hatch open then calls for Sid. “Come. Should see this.”

“What is it?” Sid asks as he climbs out of the car. “I found some Advil and seven Band-Aids, too.”

“I find more than that,” Genos says as he steps back for Sid to see.

There’s a fleece blanket, two one-gallon jugs of water, a first aid kit, a box of granola bars, jumper cables, a tire iron, a flashlight, a roll of paper towels, and a neatly folded map.

“Oh,” Sid says as he grabs the map, “thank fuck.”

“Map?” Geno questions as he stares after Sid as he unfolds the map and disappears around the front of the car. “You excited about map? There’s food and water. Think maybe you lost too much blood climbing over fence.” He grabs the first aid kit then doubles back and grabs the paper towels and a jug of water. “Come here, am going to clean you up.”

“I’m fine, G, don’t worry about it,” Sid calls and Geno rolls his eyes as he follows. He has the map spread out over the hood of the car and his finger is hovering over Nevada.

“Am going to worry about it,” Geno says as he cracks open the first aid kit. It’s packed with bandages, gauze, surgical tape as well as disinfectant wipes, and antibacterial cream.

“Take shirt off,” Geno says as he pulls at the hem of Sid’s shirt.

Sid bats his hand away but doesn’t look up from the map. “I said don’t worry about it.”

“And I say, take. Off. Shirt.”

Sid looks over his shoulder then sighs and tugs his shirt over his head. “You’re going to be wasting supplies.”

Along with the gash on Sid’s neck there’s also one just below his left shoulder blade and another down by his hip.

“We already have this talk,” Geno says as he rips off a sheet of paper towel and spills some water onto it. The cuts aren’t as bad as he was expecting but he’s not about to let Sid off the hook. They still need to be cleaned. “Did not survive all these months just to die of infection because you too stubborn to let me help.” He dabs carefully at the dried blood around the cuts, starting at the top and working his way down. “You find where we are?”

“I think so,” Sid says as he leans forward, nose almost touching the map. He leans back and points. “Right around here.”

Geno glances around Sid’s body to look at the map. “Didn’t need map to tell you we in middle of nowhere. How do we get out? Where we headed?”

Sid’s quiet for a moment as he traces his fingertip over the map and Geno turns his attention back to cleaning his wounds. They’ve stopped bleeding but the skin around it feels hot and tender. He spreads antibacterial cream over each one and then covers them with the gauze before ripping at the surgical tape with his teeth.

“St. Cloud,” Sid says, breaking his silence just as Geno presses the last bit of tape to Sid’s skin to secure the bandage. Sid turns and looks up at him. “I want to go to St. Cloud.”

Geno blinks. “Florida?”

“Minnesota,” Sid says as he grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head. “Taylor’s there. Or at least she was.”

Geno follows the imaginary line that Sid traces with his finger from where they are now to St. Cloud. It seems to be an impossible journey, hundreds and hundreds of miles across multiple states with only the food and water that they have in the car.

“How, Sid?”

“I don’t know,” Sid says quietly. “I don’t know but I know that I have to go there. Taylor was alive, we heard her, I have to go to where she was whether she’s alive or …” He trails off and Geno squeezes his shoulder.

“Is crazy, Sid.”

“I know that,” Sid snaps. “I know it is, but where else? What else are we supposed to do? Where are we supposed to go? I need to keep going. I need to have a reason to keep going. I understand if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’ll give you the car and all the food and you can —”

“You think I leave you?” Geno asks. “I go where you go even if it stupid or crazy. Usually probably going to be,” he says and Sid ducks his head and laughs. “But have to talk about how. We not make it there with just this. There’s a town up ahead —”

“That’s risky.”

“So is traveling how many miles?”

Sid looks back down at the map. “Sixteen hundred or so.”

“Sixteen hundred,” Geno repeats softly as he shakes his head, even though he knows he’d travel triple that for this man. “Car has half a tank of gas, how long that last us?”

“I don’t know,” Sid says. “A couple hundred miles.”

Geno hums and Sid sighs.

“So then we’ll walk. We can walk. We’re athletes, we can do it.”

“With no food and no water?”

“We have food.”

“A box of granola bars and snacks from hotel won’t last us.”

“There’s more,” Sid says. He looks down at his feet and scuffs his shoe against the pavement. “I have some MREs saved. I figured it was a good idea to tuck some away in case something happened. … I didn’t want to worry you.”

Geno scrubs his hands across his face. “How many you have?”

“Fifteen. I would’ve had more but they cut our meals back.”

“We share, make them stretch, would last us fifteen days. You think we going to make it to Minnoesota in fifteen days, Sid.”

“With the granola bars and the food from the hotel —”

“Sid,” Geno cuts him off. “Can’t do it. What about water? What about protection? How long you think hockey sticks will last before they break?”

“We’ll have to cross a river or a stream or something at some point and you have your bat now and there’s a tire iron in the car. We can make it, we’ll be okay.”

“Sid,” Geno says again, more forcefully this time, and Sid sighs, shoulders falling in defeat.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he admits and Geno squeezes his shoulder.

“Don’t want anything to happen to me either,” he says. “Is good thing you have my back, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sid says with a nod. “Yeah, I have your back.”

“Good,” Geno says. “Now should get going. Feel like we pushing our luck a little bit being out here.” He starts to head for the driver’s side but stops when he sees that Sid isn’t moving. Instead he’s staring down at the body of the woman on the pavement.

“I feel bad leaving her here like this,” Sid says. “I mean, look at everything she gave us. She might have saved our lives.”

Geno sighs and lets his head hang. “Okay, Sid.”

They lay her body in the dirt off the side of the road.

Sid collects rocks to make an outline around her while Geno looks through her wallet for an ID. They should know her name.

“Diana Eaton from Wadsworth, Nevada,” Geno reads, squinting down at her license. “Was twenty-three years old.” He looks at her picture then looks down at her body. “She was pretty.”

Sid holds his hand out and Geno gives him the whole wallet. There’s nothing else in there except a gym card, a couple of gift cards, and a few dollars.

Sid doesn’t look through it. Instead he tucks her ID back into one of the slots and places the wallet under her head, a headstone to complete their makeshift memorial. Sid crosses himself, the same way he does at the end of the anthem.

They’re quiet for a moment, Sid looking down at Diana and Geno looking out across the desert. He can see figures moving in the distance, walkers, but he can’t be sure if they’re getting closer or moving farther away. Heat lines bend his vision.

“Sid,” he says and Sid nods.

“I know. Let’s go.”

Geno drives, baseball bat across his lap and foot light on the gas. Sid sits beside him in the passenger seat with the tire iron between his legs, fingers drumming on the top of it.

“You nervous,” Geno asks and Sid huffs.

“Aren’t you?”

“We have to do it,” Geno says with a shrug,. “Is no use being nervous.”

“I wish I was as relaxed as you.”

“No, not relaxed,” Geno tells him, “just … trying to be calm.”

“I don’t see the difference,” Sid says softly as he stares out the window, fingers still tapping against the tire iron.

Geno reaches over and covers Sid’s hand with his own, stilling the movement.

“I make deal with you, okay? If you say go, we go. I won’t push. We go into town but you say when we leave. Sound good?”

Sid stares down at the top of Geno’s hand for a moment then nods. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

The town is smaller than Geno had been expecting, with one main drag and only a handful of streets that shoot off from it.

It’s quiet. They can’t see any walkers from this end of the road and Geno feels confident when he steps out of the car.

“See,” he says, “this is not so bad. We can do this. Is going to be okay.”

Sid looks unconvinced.

They check out a convenience store first. The gas pumps mock them with the almost certain knowledge that there's more than enough gas there to get them to Minnesota a few times over but, without power, there's no way to get it from the pump to their car.

The windows of the shop are shattered and they have to step over broken glass to get inside. Geno goes first, bat at the ready, and Sid follows close behind. Most of the shelves are tipped over and empty and the freezer cases in the back are bare as well.

“This is bust,” Geno says as he pokes at the mess with the end of his bat. “Should keep going.”

“Let’s just keep looking for a minute,” Sid says as he puts the tire iron down at the counter and hops over. “Oh, shit.”

Geno looks up. “You find something clerk stored away?”

“Kinda. I think I found the clerk.”

Geno rushes forward, bat raised but Sid holds a hand out to stop him.

“No,” Sid says, “it’s okay. Well, he’s not okay. but I’m okay. He’s been dead for a while.”

Geno peers over the counter at the body on the ground. “He dead-dead?”

Sid nods and pokes him with the end of the tire iron. “Yeah, he’s not getting up.” He bends down and pulls something out of the clerk’s shirt pocket. He stands back up with a Bic lighter and flicks the end a few times to get it to work.

“Can use that,” Geno says as he takes the lighter and tucks it carefully into his bag.

“We should keep looking,” Sid says as he slides back over the counter. “It’s not going to be easy to find stuff but we might get lucky.”

It takes time and effort but they manage to find two cans of tomato soup, a jar of pickles, three bags of mostly crushed Doritos, a bottle of Red Bull, and three pairs of reading glasses with strong prescriptions.

“Is not a bad find,” Geno says as they carefully exit the store. “We go or keep looking?”

Sid looks up and down the street. It’s quiet, nothing moving, not even the wind blowing. “We can keep going,” he says. “Carefully.”

They check every building they can get into. The post office, a laundry mat, a diner where they find a metal mixing bowl and one steak knife with a bent blade.

Geno can feel Sid getting anxious. They’ve been at this for a while now and haven’t found much of anything apart from what they picked up at the gas station.

“You’re going to break into a church?” Sid asks and Geno startles. He didn’t even notice, too lost in his thoughts to see what’s in front of his face.

It’s definitely a church, small and white with a picket fence out front and a steeple on the roof. There are crosses on each of the doors and a chain and lock holding them together.

“What are you even thinking you’re going to find in a church?” Sid asks and Geno shrugs.

“Maybe those little cookies people eat. Or wine. You say you want wine. Can I borrow tire iron?”

They swap weapons and Sid rests the bat against his shoulder as Geno swings at the lock and chain with the iron.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Sid says over the sound of metal on metal. “G —”

The chain breaks and the lock falls to the ground. “You want to go?” he asks, giving Sid an out. “You say we go and we go, remember?”

“I remember,” Sid says. “I know. You go in, I’ll stand guard out here.”

Geno nods. “Okay. Works for me.”

He hands the tire iron back and takes the bat from Sid. “I’ll be right back,” he says before he slips inside. “Just a quick look.”

The interior of the church is dark and musty and his footsteps echo and bounce off the vaulted ceiling as he walks down the rows of pews. Sunlight pours through the stained glass windows above the altar, coloring the linoleum in reds and oranges and blues. It’s beautiful, but he doesn't let himself become distracted. He told Sid he’d be quick.

There’s nothing much for him to find in the sanctuary so he follows a set of stairs down to the basement. It’s dark, the only light coming from the small rectangular windows near the ceiling. There’s carpet beneath his feet and what feels like wood paneling against his hand as he slides it against the wall, feeling around for an opening.

This must be where they held meetings and events so there has to be a kitchen —

His hand curls around a door jam and Geno steps through the opening. He lets his eyes adjust to the darkness before he starts opening cabinets and drawers and absolutely delights in what he finds.

There are cans of food — it’s too dark to read the labels but Geno tosses every one he can find into his bag. He also throws in a can of instant coffee and all the sugar packets he can get his hands on. He finds crackers and cookies, most likely used for snacks at Sunday school and a jar of peanut butter, half empty but more than enough to make Sid smile.

There’s cutlery in the drawers — spoons, forks, and knives. He grabs a stack of paper plates and bowls and styrofoam cups and a frying pan that’s heavy enough to be used as a weapon when they’re not using it to cook.

He finds a bread knife that doesn’t look sharp enough to inflict any harm on anything other than a freshly baked loaf but sets that in his bag as well. He opens the last drawer and finds a dozen matchbooks and feels like he’s won the lottery.

He makes one more sweep of the kitchen to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind then starts for the stairs.

“Hit jackpot,” Geno calls as he steps into the light of the sanctuary. “Food, coffee, matches, and little surprise for you.”

“I’m glad,” Sid says dryly. He’s holding the door open with his foot. “Now can you please get out here so we can go? We’re stealing from a church. I feel like lightning is going to strike us any second now.”

Geno rolls his eyes. “I’m think God is fine with us staying alive. What is food going to do here? Rot? What waste.”

“I’m glad you’ve made peace with it because —”

“Sid!” Geno yells, “duck!”

“Where?” Sid asks, looking around as, in one smooth motion, Geno pushes Sid out of the way, raises his bat, and cracks a walker across the skull. It collapses onto the ground a few feet away from where Sid ended up and Sid scrambles to his feet as more walkers turn the corner of the church.

“We have to go,” Sid says quickly. “It’s time to go.”

“Yes,” Geno agrees as he pushes Sid down the steps of the church toward the road. “For sure.”

They run, Geno nipping at Sid’s heels as more walkers emerge from side streets. Geno hits one then yells for Sid to keep running when he slides to a stop and turns.

“Don’t stop!” Geno screams as he hits another. “Keep going!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Sid yells back as he pulls Geno forward so he has a clear shot at the walker behind him. Geno turns in time to see the tire iron bash through the walker's skull then turns back and pushes Sid forward again, always keeping him in front, always keeping his eyes on him.

When they finally make it to the car, Geno doesn’t even bother closing the door all the way behind him before he turns the key. He can hear the sound of walkers bumping up against the back of it, reaching and grabbing, fingernails scratching at the paint before he steps on the gas, sending dust and sand kicking up behind them as the tires squeal.

Beside him Sid has both hands braced on the dashboard, head ducked down as he breathes heavily. They both still have their bags on their shoulders, taking up space in the front seat. It’s cramped and uncomfortable but Geno drives for miles and miles before he even begins to slow down. When he finally stops his heart rate is still up and his hands feel sore from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

“Must have come when I break the chain to get in,” he says. “Was too loud.”

Sid nods. It looks like he’s still breathing heavily. “I didn’t see them. I was looking, I really was but then I heard you and I turned back to look through the church and I ...” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I won’t let that happen again.”

Geno reaches over, arm knocking against his bag, and puts his hand on the back of Sid’s neck. “Is okay. Is fine. We both still alive.”

Sid nods and blows another breath out before he looks up. “What’s my surprise?”

It takes a moment for Geno to remember the jar of peanut butter in his bag and his bark of laughter seems to shock the both of them.

“Sid,” he says with a sigh as he slides his hand farther along Sid’s neck to pull him into a clumsy one-armed hug. “Just you wait.”

Geno keeps driving while Sid feeds him crackers smeared with a thin layer of peanut butter. They make his mouth dry but it’s the first food he’s eaten today and he’s never tasted anything better.

“This was a great find,” Sid says as he hands Geno another cracker. “If we’re going to be walking we’ll need the extra protein.”

“Makes me thirsty,” Geno says, spitting crumbs out onto the steering wheel. Sid wrinkles his nose and digs into the bag at his feet for a bottle of water. He unscrews the top and hands it over. “Thanks,” Geno says as he takes a swig.

“You want me to drive for a bit?” “Don’t like the way I drive?” “You’re been driving for a while,” Sid says and Geno laughs at the way he avoided answering the question. “I just thought you could use a break.”

Geno hums and slows the car. “Maybe you right. Have about a quarter tank of gas left. Don’t know how much longer we got.”

“I’ll drive until we run out,” Sid says as he pops open the passenger-side door.

The first thing Sid does when he gets behind the wheel is reach for the radio. Static crackles through the speakers and he quickly turns the knob, color dotting his cheeks.

“I forgot,” he says. “It’s a habit.”

Geno moves the seat all the way back so he can stretch out his legs. He shifts, trying to get comfortable, until he finds a good position — angled toward the door with his hands tucked beneath his head like a pillow. He watches the desert roll by out the window. Everything looks the same. Sand and dirt and dried-out shrubs. He sits up a little straighter when he spots a figure out in the distance. It raises its head and follows the sound of the car before turning and following. He wonders where it came from and how it got all the way out here and how long it’ll walk, following the sound of the car.

“You falling asleep on me?” Sid asks and Geno shakes his head.

“You sure we going right way?”

They’ve been driving for hours now and haven’t seen so much as an abandoned shack on the side of the road.

“There aren’t many roads out here,” Sid says. “There aren’t many ways to go. I basically just stay on this road and avoid signs for Salt Lake City.”

“Don’t like it there?” “I don’t think we’d like any city right now. We have to assume they’re all like San Jose.”

“What about Pittsburgh?” Sid doesn’t say anything but Geno can see the way his jaw tenses.

“What about out where we live? Away from downtown?”

Sid shakes his head and keeps staring straight out the front windshield. “If it’s not bombed out it’s probably overrun. I don’t see how anyone could still be living there.”

It’s a lot to take in and even more to process. Geno had already assumed that everyone he knows, all the places he’s grown to love didn’t make it, but to hear it from Sid — it feels more final. Like a confirmation.

“Are you all right?” Sid asks. Geno nods and turns his attention back out the window.

They run out of gas outside a ghost town called San Jacinto. The sign is tipped over and half buried in the dirt and the only thing around is a dilapidated fence and a run-down shed.

“The good news is that we’re almost to Utah,” Sid says as he gets out of the car.

“How far is almost,?” Geno shoots back.

Sid faces East and squints into the horizon. “About sixty miles.”

“Oh,” Geno says sarcastically, “is that all?”

“We can knock that out in three days.”

“And then how far?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Geno stares at him for a moment then looks out over the vast nothingness of the desert. “No. Just tell me when we close.”

They split the supplies between their bags. It’s a hard fit but they pack the water and food first. A half-gallon of water is already gone so Geno puts that in his bag while Sid carries the other. They each need to leave behind a spare shirt and Geno loses a pair of jeans to make room for the first-aid kit and the flashlight. Sid ties the frying pan Geno found at the church to the strap of his bag using the laces from Diana’s running shoes, and Geno tucks the matches he found down deep in his bag. If it happens to rain, hopefully they’ll be safe.

The bags are heavy but not unbearably so and they both know they’ll get lighter the longer they travel.

The only thing they can’t fit is their hockey sticks and Sid takes a long time to answer when Geno asks what they should do.

“Leave them,” he finally says. “They’re awkward to carry and they’d probably end up breaking on us. I’m surprised they’ve lasted this long.”

“You sure?” Geno asks but Sid’s already turned away.

They walk for three hours before they start to lose light.

They’re exhausted and hungry and then, when the sun sets, they’re cold, too. They find an outcropping of rocks to put their backs against. The rocks are still warm from the heat of the day but Sid slides up close and pulls the blanket out of his bag.

“Should sleep in shifts,” Geno says. “Someone always looking out.”

“There’s nothing around here for miles,” Sid says as he hunkers down, tucking the blanket beneath his chin. “I think we’re okay here. Sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Sid falls asleep quickly, a warm and heavy weight pressed against Geno’s side.

Geno stays up, eyelids drooping as he watches and listens for any sign of trouble for as long as he can.

According to the map they make it to Utah on the third day.

They walk during the day and build fires at night. They open cans with the pocket knife and heat soup in the pan. In the morning they put out the fire and keep moving.

Geno’s feet hurt and they’re burning more calories than they’re putting in, but Sid keeps them on a steady pace, even over the rough mountain terrain and through patches of prickly plants with needles that stick to their skin.

It seems like a tease when they come upon Spring Bay. The map says it turns into Salt Lake but the water here is a deep, oxblood red and smells like sulfur.

They can’t drink it and they can’t bathe in it and when Geno complains about it Sid gets snappy.

He tells Geno they have to keep moving and that they’re wasting time.

He seems to regret it as soon as the words are out because he rubs a hand over his face and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says and he truly sounds it. “I know we’re running low on water and we both stink ...” He trails off, looking lost.

 _Lost_ isn't a look Geno was used to seeing on Sid before all of this started, but Geno's seen it enough now that he's familiar with it. As much as it would have looked out of place on Sid, his sure-footed teammate and confident captain, it's just another layer of this new Sid, the one who remains his closest, dearest friend even as he grows more and more unfamiliar with each passing step.

“I’m sorry,” Sid says again. “I’m just sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Geno tells him and Sid shakes his head.

“It’ll get better, it won’t always be like this,” he says as he raises his hands and gestures to the salt flats around them. “If we keep heading east, it will get better.”

“Okay,” Geno says again. He approaches Sid like he’d approach a frightened animal and lays his hand on the top of his shoulder. “We keep going east.”

Three days east is a small farming community with desolate fields and farm houses.

They search the houses. When the doors are locked Sid does the polite thing and knocks. When no one answers Geno does the impolite thing and breaks a window with his bat.

They’re able to restock their supplies and, in the second house they enter, they find their first walker in days.

She’s in the basement and tries desperately to climb the stairs when Sid shines the flashlight down them.

After she’s taken care of Sid shines the light around the room and finds a pile of bones in the corner.

“They probably both hid down here when the whole thing started. One turned and the other didn’t.”

“Is sad,” Geno says but quickly distracts himself by loading up his bag with canned peaches and homemade applesauce.

They find keys to a pickup truck in the final house. There’s barely any gas, they’ll be running on fumes before too long, but something is better than nothing and they load their bags into the back and head off.

Sid drives and Geno’s so happy to be off his feet that he curls up in the passenger seat and falls asleep, the sun warm on his face and the breeze in his hair.

When Geno wakes he realizes the car is stopped. Sid’s sitting beside him, map unfolded and blocking Geno’s view out the driver's side window.

Geno yawns and stretches. “We run out of gas?”

“No quite.”

“Then why we stop?”

“I thought you might want to see this,” Sid says as he lowers the map.

The truck is parked on the shore of a small lake. The water is a deep blue and behind it is a backdrop of trees. Real, live, green trees. It’s the first sign of life they’ve seen in hundreds of miles.

“Welcome to Wyoming,” Sid says as he gestures out the window, “or at least this part of it. I think it used to be a quarry.” He looks back to Geno and shakes his head. “What are you still doing here?” he asks and Geno throws open the car door and strips himself of his clothes as he runs.

The water is clear and cool and feels like heaven on his overheated skin and overworked joints.

He resurfaces with water in his eyes but he can see that Sid’s still standing on the shoreline. Geno waves. “Get in here,” he yells. “Will make you feel better!”

Sid hesitates and looks around like he’s going to find something. They both know they’re the only ones around for miles and miles.

Finally, Sid kicks off his shoes and Geno flops back, content to float while Sid acclimates himself to the water.

Geno closes his eyes against the sun. He can hear Sid moving through the water as his ears bob above and below the waterline. Sid’s getting closer, swimming instead of wading, his legs no longer long enough to touch the bottom. Gneo smiles and opens his mouth to welcome him but, before he can get a word out, there are hands in the center of his chest pushing him down and holding him under.

It only lasts a second but Geno pops up sputtering while Sid laughs, the sound rippling across the water.

“Asshole,” Geno shouts, which only makes Sid laugh harder. Geno can just reach the bottom here and it gives him enough leverage to pounce. He grabs Sid by the shoulders and pushes him down, holding him there while Sid slaps at Geno’s body from underwater.

They wrestle back and forth, taking turns dunking each other like a couple of kids until they’re both waterlogged and Geno’s stomach growls.

“Hungry,” he says and Sid nods.

They’re both treading water a few feet from each other. Sid’s hair is slicked back and Geno’s eyes get stuck on the way his shoulders move just above the waterline while his arms move below it, working to keep himself afloat.

“Maybe we eat then keep going,” Geno says when he’s able to look away. There’s still plenty of daylight left. If the truck runs out of gas they’ll be able to get some more miles in.

Sid shakes his head. “I was thinking we could stay a bit,” he says, “at least for the night. It’s nice here. I feel like we could use the rest.”

Geno can’t say he’s not surprised. “You sure? You always go-go-go.”

“We’re going to burn ourselves out,” he says. “I’m going to burn us out,” he adds softly. “I think we need to take a minute to breathe. What do you think?”

Geno thinks he’d keep the pace Sid was demanding from him for as long as he demanded it. As long as it meant that they’d still be together.

“Think breathing would be nice,” he says and Sid nods and tips his head back into the water.

They gather firewood when they get out. There’s an abundance of logs and fallen limbs near the edge of the forest and they light up easily when Geno strikes the match.

It’s a feast for dinner — canned corn and diced potatoes and a bag of chips with a jar of peaches for dessert.

After, Geno collects water to boil for drinking while Sid wades back into the lake with half a bar of soap to clean up.

The sun is setting and the light is fading quickly from the sky, but there’s just enough to illuminate Sid as he sheds all his clothing and steps into the water.

With Sid’s back to him, Geno feels free to look his fill, the way he never did while in the locker room.

Watching him now it’s clear that hockey is far behind them. He hardly recognizes this version of Sid, pale where his skin isn’t exposed to the sun, and gaunt, all sharp edges and hard lines. The old Sid was strong yet soft, with baby fat that never fully disappeared from around his hips and waist. He filled out every piece of clothing he put on, broad and thick. Now, everything just hangs off of him. He’s already had to punch three new holes in his belt with the pocket knife that they found in Diana’s purse.

Geno knows he’s not much better off. He can feel all his ribs and he knows the muscle definition in his arms and chest isn’t what it used to be. His skin is itchy from sunburn and his lips are always dry and cracked, even more than normal.

He’s not sure how much longer they’ll last like this. He’s not sure how this will all end.

“Trade you,” Sid calls and Geno gets a hold of himself and averts his eyes as Sid gets out of the water. He’s still naked and dripping wet so he stays back from the fire. Geno glances up and sees that he’s holding out the bar of soap. There’s enough for one more use.

Geno reaches out and takes it, fingers overlapping as Sid passses it over.

“We still have towels, right? The ones you took from the hotel?”

“Yes,” Geno answers as he picks himself up off the ground. “Don’t know how clean.”

“As long as it’s dry that’s all I care about. We should wash everything while we’re here, set it out on the hood of the truck to dry. It would be nice to have clean clothes for once. But we can deal with that tomorrow.”

“Good,” Geno says, “don’t want to do tonight. Am ready for bed.”

Sid scrubs the towel over his hair. “You better wash up before you get into the back of the truck with me. You reek.”

The water feels unpleasantly cold now that the sun isn’t out to warm the air, so Geno makes quick work of cleaning himself up. He scrubs at the back of his knees and the small of his back, anywhere that sweat collects. He washes his balls and dick and doesn’t think about how this piece of soap touched Sid’s body in the same way.

He rinses off and, when he turns toward the shore, he can see Sid watching him. When Geno meets his eyes, neither of them looks away.

The fire is still burning when they climb into the bed of the truck. It’s a calm night and there’s no chance that the fire will spread while they sleep.

Even with the blanket, the lining of the bed is hard and it takes some maneuvering for Geno to get comfortable. It’s not the worst place they’ve slept, not by a long shot, and Geno feels safe enough that he doesn’t suggest they take turns being the lookout.

He wants nothing more than to fall asleep and, while it should come easily, he finds himself lying there staring up at the stars for what feels like hours.

Sid lies still beside him, facing away, already asleep, or so Geno thinks. He notices Sid shifting minutely, just as Geno had when he was trying to settle. After a while he recognizes it for what it really is.

The rhythmic movement of his arm and the way he’s curled in on himself. Geno listens closely, tuning out the sound of frogs and crickets, and hears Sid’s breath coming out in short pants.

It’s been so long since Geno’s touched himself, no privacy and no desire, but he flushes red hot as he thinks about Sid doing it less than a foot away.

Geno listens for Sid to gasp or moan, for the movement of his arm to slow and stop, but it doesn’t come. His arm speeds up and Sid makes a frustrated huffing sound that breaks off into something close to a cry and Geno decides he’s had enough.

He has Sid’s back, whatever that might mean.

Geno rolls over and touches Sid’s hip, intent clear. Sid freezes, hand still on his dick.

“Can say no,” Geno whispers and then he waits.

He waits for Sid to push him away or laugh this off. They could still laugh it off. But Sid stays silent and Geno inches forward until their hands brush before he wraps his fingers around Sid’s dick.

“Fuck,” Sid breathes harshly. His hips twitch and Geno rests his forehead against the back of Sid’s neck. “Geno.”

“Is okay, it’s okay,” he soothes and Sid makes a frustrated noise.

“It’s not. I can’t.” Sid tucks his chin to his chest. “I can’t,” he repeats. “I keep trying, I keep thinking it’s going to make me feel better, but I just _can’t.”_ There’s a cry to his voice that would break Geno’s heart if it hadn’t already been broken by a million other things.

“Gonna be okay,” Geno says. When Sid shakes his head Geno squeezes his dick and Sid goes still against him. “I’m take care.”

He works his hand over Sid’s cock, setting a steady rhythm. He has no idea what Sid likes or what gets him off, so he curls his body around him and tries to feel how Sid responds.

Sid’s breath hitches when he twists his wrist and his whole body shudders when his fingers catch around the head.

“Don’t think,” Geno says. “Be here, just feel.”

“Geno,” Sid pants. His hips keep snapping forward and flexing against the tight hold Geno has on him. “Can’t, I can’t.”

“Can, know you can. Can do anything you want.”

“I can’t,” he sobs and Geno moves closer still and presses his face to the back of his neck.

His skin smells like sweat and smoke but he is still _Sidney Crosby_ and Geno would do anything for him.

He kisses the back of Sid’s neck, hot and open-mouthed, and Sid sounds absolutely wrecked when he moans, bows his back and comes hard and hot over his hand.

“Good,” Geno says. His lips are still against Sid’s skin and all he can taste is grit and the regret that they didn’t get to do this sooner. He would have loved to press his mouth all over Sid, taste soap and warmth and hard muscles. “So good,” he says as Sid shakes, slowly coming down from an orgasm that’s been a long time coming.

Geno pulls his hand back when Sid groans and pushes it away, too sensitive now for even the lightest touch.

Geno wipes it on the back of his jeans, thankful that he hasn’t washed them yet.

“Okay now?” Geno asks softly. Sid nods. “Good. I’m glad. You think you sleep now?”

Again all Sid does is nod and Geno rolls onto his back and laces his hands together over his stomach.

“Good,” Geno says, “have a good night, Sid.”

Geno looks at the stars and listens to the crickets and frogs until Sid’s voice suddenly cuts through it all.

“Goodnight, Geno.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Body Horror- Sid and Geno find a zombie in an SUV. There's detailed descriptions about what she looks like. 
> 
> Questions, comments, thoughts, concerns....my tumblr is [here](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/).


	5. 44°41’50.3”N 63°21’45.4”W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, a cat is introduced in this chapter and I can promise, promise, promise you that nothing bad will happen to this cat. It's going to get a happy ending just like Sid and Geno. Promise.   
> Check the end notes for more warnings/spoilers.

It’s foggy in the morning. It rolls off the water and creeps out of the woods like something from a horror movie.

Sid wiggles his toes in the silt beneath them and treads farther out so the water is up to his knees, half expecting an army of walkers to emerge from the treeline and ruin their illusion of safety.

Nothing comes, of course. They’re alone out here. It’s only him and Geno, who is still snoring in the back of the truck.

He’s glad Geno’s still sleeping; it's obvious he needs the rest. Sid’s noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes and the weariness etched into his face. Geno’s nearly unrecognizable from the man who would take the ice back in Pittsburgh. He’s even further from the boy Sid grew up with, the one who was confident and ready to take on the world.

This Geno seems beaten and broken and Sid feels responsible for it. He’s been asking a lot of Geno. Maybe it’s been too much. Maybe he’s being selfish. Maybe. But he’s not about to stop now. Taylor is still out there and he has to keep going.

Geno stirs behind him, a foot or an arm hitting the side of the truck. He must have rolled over and fallen back to sleep because when Sid looks over his shoulder, he doesn’t see Geno sitting up.

Sid turns back to look out over the water, the fog burning off as the sun begins to rise. Last night had been ... he thought it had been a dream, but the proof was there, tacky and unmistakable on his stomach and the inside of his thighs this morning when he woke.

He’s not sure what to do now. What does he do now that he knows what it feels like when Geno touches him, when he presses his lips to the back of his neck and whispers right into his ear?

He feels changed, like the body he woke up with is different from the one that climbed into the truck last night.

He takes a deep breath as the first rays of sun fall across the lake, turning the black water blue. He can see his feet now and, more importantly, he can see shadows that pass over them.

“Sid?”

Geno’s awake now but Sid doesn’t turn around.

“There’s fish in here,” he says and he hears Geno climb out of the truck.

“What?”

“Fish. There’s fish in here. They’re not very big but ...”

He hears the splash of Geno’s feet entering the water and the fish dart away.

“You think you could catch?” Geno asks and Sid nods.

“I could try. Was there a safety pin in the sewing kit you took from the hotel?”

“Think so.”

“Then I’m going to try.”

Geno restarts the fire while Sid jerry-rigs a fishing pole out of stick, shoelaces, and a safety pin. It’s a long shot but it beats tucking into a can of vegetables or a stale granola bar again.

“Maybe try this,” Geno calls from the shore and Sid looks over his shoulder, careful to keep the line steady. Geno’s holding up the loofa. “Is kind of like net, yeah? If I can maybe unravel it —”

There’s a tug on the line and Sid whips back around. He can’t reel it in so he chokes up on the stick then grabs for the shoelace until he can get a grip on the fish.

It’s small, barely six inches, but he holds it up like the Stanley Cup above his head. Geno starts bounding toward him, shoes and pants getting soaked as he runs through the water, but Sid holds his hands out and stops him.

“You’re gonna scare the others,” he warns and Geno slows to a near stop, getting close enough to take the fish from Sid before he backs off.

“You know how to clean a fish?” Sid asks and Geno nods.

“Won’t be easy with what we have but I do.”

“It probably won’t taste like much,” Sid says. They’ve never thought to grab any kind of seasoning, not even salt.

“Won’t matter,” Geno says smiling proudly. “Is still fresh. Is still meat.” He laughs, clearly overjoyed, and claps Sid on the shoulder before he begins to slowly wade toward shore.

Sid watches him for a moment, happy that he’s happy.

Somehow Sid manages to catch three more fish, all about the same size as the first.

They don’t get much meat off of them, and what they manage is bland and oddly chewy, but they eat every last bit with Geno using his fingers to scrape together what’s left and holding it out to Sid.

“Here,” he says, “you earned it.”

Sid tries to resist and say they should split it, but Geno won’t hear it and he pushes his hand forward. Sid holds his hand out but Geno bypasses it altogether and holds his fingertips up to Sid’s lips.

Sid opens his mouth and the tips of Geno’s fingers brush against Sid’s tongue as he takes the fish.

The look Geno gives him is brief but heavy, there and gone as he stands and begins to clean up.

Geno washes the dishes while Sid tackles the laundry, washing their clothes with drops of shampoo.

They take stock of their supplies while their clothes dry, reorganizing the food and whatever medical supplies they still have, splitting everything evenly between their bags.

If they’re going to talk about it, if Sid’s going to muster the courage to bring it up, it would be now, with Geno beside him, shoulder to shoulder, skin to skin with every bit of clothing they have to their names spread out on the hood of the truck.

The moment passes when Geno zips up his bag and steps away.

“Should get going soon,” he says. “We about halfway there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sid says, “about that.”

Geno smiles. “Then we keep going.”

Geno drives for twenty five miles before the gas runs out.

“Fuck,” Geno says. “Wish we get further.”

“A day’s worth of walking done in forty minutes is nothing to get upset about,” Sid says as he pops the door open. He stops before climbing out and looks over at Geno. He’s looking straight ahead, jaw set and hands on the wheel. He looks like he’s trying to will the wheels to move. Clearly the lake and the extra rest didn’t work as well as Sid had hoped.

“G, you okay?” Sid asks carefully and Geno closes his eyes for a moment before he opens them and his hands slide off the wheel.

“Am fine,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Sid’s used to walking by now but that doesn’t make it any easier. It’s easy to get lost in the monotony of it, of putting one foot in front of the other and thinking of nothing else than moving forward. It goes on for miles and miles and Sid only snaps out of his stupor when he collides into Geno who has stopped dead in the middle of the road.

Geno reaches back to steady him with one hand and uses the other to point with his baseball bat.

There are three bodies lying on the pavement a couple dozen yards ahead; even from that distance, Sid can see the flies buzzing around.

The stench of decomposition gets stronger the closer they get and, after poking at them with the end of the tire iron to make sure they’re really dead, Sid uses his foot to roll one over.

There’s an unmistakable bullet hole in its forehead, slightly off center.

“Shot?” Geno asks and Sid nods, glancing over. Geno’s rolled the other two over. They’ve both been shot, as well. “Look at this,” he continues, pointing to a set of tire tracks on the pavement that veer sharply off the side of the road.

They find a car in a ditch off the shoulder, it’s back left wheel off the ground and the front end smashed.

“Someone in there,” Geno says as he peers through the back window. Sid drops his bag on the ground and hops down into the ditch.

He uses the car for balance as he makes his way to the driver’s-side door. The window is filthy so Sid spits in his hand then wipes it against the glass. The dirt turns to mud and he winds up cleaning it with the edge of his shirt. He ducks down to look inside and can make out the shape of a person slumped over in the seat.

He taps on the window and, when nothing happens, he taps a little harder.

“Dead-dead?” Geno asks from up on the road. Sid nods and tries the door.

The stench of rotting flesh hits Sid like a ton of bricks, overwhelming all of his senses. He has to turn away to gag.

“Is bad?” Geno asks and Sid nods, eyes watering as he pulls his shirt up over his nose and looks in the car again.

The man’s body is badly decomposed, bones already showing through the skin, but Sid can see a defined bite mark on the side of its neck and a bullet hole through its temple.

“Need help?” Geno calls but Sid can tell by the sound of his voice that he has no interest in coming down.

“No,” Sid yells back as he leans farther into the car.

“You find something good?”

There’s a gun in the guy's hand, or what’s left of his hand, and Sid carefully reaches over his body. “Just give me a minute.”

The guy’s fingers are stiff and frozen and the bones crack as Sid works the gun free.

“Got it,” he calls back up to Geno as he climbs out of the car and starts back up the embankment. “It’s a revolver, yeah?”

“Guess so,” Geno says, looking uncomfortable. “Don’t know a lot about guns unless it is for paintball or video games.”

“Same,” Sid says, careful to keep the gun pointed away from them as he looks it over. “You remember when the team went to West Point? That was the first and last time I touched a real gun.” He pushes at the barrel and it slides open, revealing four empty slots and four bullets still in the chamber. “That makes sense,” Sid says. “Three in these and then ...” He trails off and looks back down at the car. “He got bit,” Sid tells Geno. “I can see the bite. It probably happened up here. He got out of his car for some reason, they attacked him, he killed them then he thought he could drive off but he started to turn, went off the road and then —” He presses his pointer finger to his forehead and mimes pulling a trigger. “I guess he thought that was better than turning.”

“You think he’s right?”

Sid shrugs. “I don’t know if there is a right answer. Seems he would’ve lost no matter what he did.” Sid looks down at the gun. “We should take this. Do you want to carry it or should I?”

Geno steps back with his hands up and Sid sighs.

“Fine,” he says as he looks it over again, “but I don’t see a safety on this thing. If it goes off in my bag and I accidentally shoot myself in the ass —”

“I stitch you up,” Geno assures. “Somehow.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sid says as he kneels down beside his bag to stow the gun.

Small towns and settlements begin to pop up with more frequency as they make their way through the state.

They kill more walkers in a day than they did in Nevada and Utah combined.

They catch their breath next to a creek outside of a town called Vista West. It’s too small to make it onto the map but big enough for far too many close calls.

Sid has the map spread out on the ground, looking desperately for the quietest route while Geno dunks a towel into the dirty water so he can scrub walker guts off his skin and complains about how he’s lost another shirt to the toxic blood.

“Why it have to burn?” Geno asks as he balls up the fabric and throws it toward the creek. It unravels and gets caught in the wind, slowing down and falling far short of the water. Geno groans in frustration. “You think that’s it, poison blood? It like … cooks their brains?”

“Maybe,” Sid says, mapping out an invisible line with his finger. They’re still so far from South Dakota and farther still from St. Cloud. But they’re so far from where they started and that it’s enough to keep him going.

Geno’s still talking about how it’s a good thing they’re so easy to kill, how good he is at swinging the bat, miming the motion as he brags.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Sid asks, sitting back on his heels.

Geno freezes, mid-swing, and looks over at him, still shirtless but clean of any blood.

“I mean,” Sid continues, “after all that we’ve done, after how many of them we killed, you act like it doesn’t bother you. It’s almost like you’re happy.”

Geno steps out of the stance and lets his arms hang by his side. “Am happy to make it out alive,” he says seriously. “Happy we both make it out. They try to kill us so I kill them first. Don’t have another choice. It bother you?”

Sid doesn’t know. He thinks back to the woman in the hallway of the hotel and how she screamed for help. He thinks about how he didn’t help her, how he couldn’t have even if he had tried. It would’ve gotten him killed.

How is anyone supposed to feel about that?

“Is not like killing people,” Geno says softly and Sid nods.

“I know that,” Sid says. “They haven’t been people for a long time. It’s just ...” He heaves a sigh and trails off and doesn’t look at Geno, who he knows is staring back at him with imploring eyes. “I don’t know,” Sid continues. “Forget I said anything. C’mon, get a shirt on. I think I found a better route.”

That night Sid can’t seem to make himself fall asleep.

His body feels heavy but his mind is racing and he can’t stop staring at the endless night above him. They’ve been in Wyoming for a week now and he can’t seem to get used to how vast the night sky is.

During the day, Wyoming is beautiful and rugged, with grasslands that roll into steep, snow-capped mountains pointing up to clear, blue skies. It’s easy to get lost in the vastness but, at night, looking up at the countless stars, he feels like he’s falling upwards and floating away.

He chances a look at Geno sitting across the fire from him and sees him looking up as well, head tipped back while shadows dance across his jawline.

“Do you know anything about constellations?” Sid asks. When Geno drops his chin to look at him, he’s smiling and Sid can see the teasing glint in his eyes.

“No, but bet you do. Bet you listen to boring podcasts about them on your way to practice.”

“They’re not boring,” Sid defends, “and I haven’t listened to any about constellations but I have listened to an audiobook about space. Cosmonauts actually. It was a long time ago, right before you joined the team.”

“Why you do that?”

Sid shrugs. It feels stupid to admit now. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought … I thought maybe if we needed something else to talk about we could talk about that. Even I know it can’t be hockey all the time.”

“But you never bring up.”

“I didn’t need to,” Sid says. “We got along just fine. It was really interesting, though. Hey, did you know that Yuri Gagarin —”

Geno groans and pushes himself to his feet. He skirts along the edge of the fire then kneels down beside Sid and spreads out one hand low on Sid’s stomach, thumb just above the button of his jeans.

“Maybe you tell me later,” he says, “okay?”

Sid nods and swallows, trying to find his voice. “What are you doing?”

“You not want?” Geno asks, his thumb now circling the button, intent crystal clear. “Can say no.”

Sid takes a deep breath and pushes Geno’s hand to the side so he can unbutton and unzip his jeans.

Geno smiles and Sid groans as Geno wraps his hand around him.

It happens again the following night and then again three nights after that. It’s quick and efficient and Geno doesn’t linger afterwards. He doesn’t ask for anything in return, even though Sid can feel how hard he gets and Sid’s ready and willing to help out.

It’s one thing to be touched but another thing entirely to touch someone back. Sid wants to touch.

Finally, sixty miles from the South Dakota border, on a cool and cloudy night, Sid decides he’s had enough.

He grabs hold of Geno’s arm when he tries to move away and rolls up onto his knees before Geno can get to his feet.

He swings his leg over Geno’s lap and settles across his thighs then drops a hand down to the front of Geno’s jeans.

“Do you want me —”

“Yes,” Geno interrupts.

“--to help you out?” Sid finishes.

It’s too dark to see if Geno is blushing as he nods his head and they both fumble with the button on his jeans.

Geno comes fast, barely ten strokes in and panting harshly against Sid’s collarbone, hands spread out against Sid’s ass.

“Good?” Sid asks, lips brushing Geno’s temple. Geno nods.

He’s sweaty and his hair feels a little greasy against Sid’s cheek. It’s gotten long, curling up at the back of his neck and around his temple. It’s shaggy and messy and Sid knows he’s not any better off. Sid reaches up to run his fingers through Geno’s hair at the same time Geno pulls his head back so he can look up at Sid.

“I’m good,” Geno says softly and Sid gives in and leans down to kiss him.

Geno doesn’t deepen it so Sid leaves it at that, just a barely there press of lips, before climbing off of him and sitting down in the dirt beside him.

“What are we doing?” Sid asks and Geno shakes his head.

“Staying alive.”

Forty miles from the South Dakota border, Geno finds a cat.

It’s getting late and the terrain has become more rugged, forcing them to walk at an incline for most of the day.

They’re tired and damp — it’s been raining off and on for hours now and they’re soaked through.

They’re irritated and grumpy, both in a bad mood that’s been lingering like the storm clouds overhead.

It’s frustrating to try to start a fire in weather like this and Geno gives up looking for dry-enough wood, tossing a water-logged stick to the ground before he starts walking out into the tall grass. “Going to take a shit.”

“Do it downwind this time,” Sid calls. “I’m gonna be eating here.”

Geno grumbles something in Russian and Sid rolls his eyes.

He has to use parts of the map to start the fire, carefully tearing off Oregon, Washington, California, and Florida before crumpling them up and setting them around the mostly dry sticks he’s found. At first it’s nothing but smoke but the wood eventually catches and Sid stands with his back to the wind to block it from blowing it out.

When he looks up he sees Geno moving back toward him, carrying something brown in his arms.

“I hope you found more wood,” Sid says. Geno shakes his head.

“Nope, even better.”

When he gets closer, Sid can see he’s holding a cat, small and tiger-striped with four white paws. Geno’s scratching at the white patch beneath its chin, smiling happily and talking softly. “Where did you find that?” Sid asks. Geno’s smile dims just a bit.

“She find me. I see grass start to move and I think oh no, you know, but she pop out. So friendly.” Geno rubs his hand over her head and she pushes up into it. Sid can hear her purring. “Think maybe she came from that farm house we pass a few miles back. No one been taking care of for long while.”

“What are you gonna do with her?”

“Take care of her,” Geno says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“How are you gonna do that? We barely have enough food for ourselves.”

“Is a cat, Sid. She can hunt.”

“Geno, I don’t think —”

“Am not asking for permission,” Geno snaps and Sid takes a step back, shocked at the tone.

“I’m sorry,” Sid says after a long moment of silence. “You’re right, you don’t have to ask for permission. I’m just —”

He stops when Geno sighs and Sid immediately shuts his mouth with a nod. He’s not going to explain himself, his argument is weak anyways.

“I’m sorry,” he says again but Geno ignores him, turning all his attention on the cat instead. “C’mon, G, you know I wouldn’t just leave her here. Even if I am more of a dog person.” He reaches out to pet the cat and it hisses at him. Sid pulls his hand away while Geno struggles to stifle a laugh.

“She know you say that.”

“Yeah,” Sid says, watching the cat out of the corner of his eye. She seems to love Geno, slowly blinking up at him as he holds her. “What are you going to name her?”

“Don’t know,” Geno says then walks to the opposite side of the fire and sits down.

Geno doesn’t talk during dinner, at least not to Sid. He talks in low, sweet Russian to the cat, offering her bites of his canned carrots between scratching behind her ears and at the base of her tail.

“She must be hungry,” Sid says as she chews on the carrot but Geno only grunts in reply. Clearly Sid’s yet not forgiven.

The cat sleeps on Geno’s chest that night, curled up in a tight, little ball with her tail covering her face. Geno sleeps with his hand on her body, like he’s trying to protect her.

Sid hardly sleeps at all.

When they head out in the morning, the cat seems content to walk beside Geno, stopping every few feet to sniff at the ground before running to catch up.

They walk for miles before Geno decides she must be getting tired and picks her up. He cradles her in his arms for a while before she moves to sit on his shoulder, carefully keeping her balance without digging her nails into his skin. When she decides she’s bored of that she stretches out across with his shoulders, causing Geno to bow his head slightly to make more room for her.

“Your neck is going to get sore,” Sid warns and Geno shakes his head.

“Is fine,” he says, not missing a step as he walks past Sid. “Don’t worry.”

Sid begins to think the silent treatment is about more than just the cat when Geno still hasn’t said more than four words to him by the time they stop for dinner.

It was the kiss. Sid shouldn't have done it. He shouldn’t have pushed. He should have just left well enough alone.

“Судьба,” Geno says. He’s kneeling on the ground tending to the fire and it takes a moment for Sid to realize that Geno’s talking to him, not to the cat.

“Excuse me?”

“Судьба,” Geno repeats. “Is her name.”

“Oh,” Sid says, feeling a bit like he’s walking on eggshells. “Sud-ba,” he repeats and Geno tips his head from side to side, like how he said it was close enough. “Does it mean something?”

Geno nods, stroking Судьба from her head to her tail until she flops over in the dirt and shows him her belly. “Is like … meant to be. Like destiny. I find her in middle of nowhere or maybe she finds me, don’t know. But I only find her because I’m here with you and I’m here with you because I was at All-Star Game. Maybe someone else get voted in. Maybe Penguins never pick me in draft. Maybe I never come to America at all. Never meet you.” He dares to touch Судьба’s belly and she kicks at his hand with her back feet. “Lots of things happen to get me here, you know? Get us here.”

Sod nods. “I’m sorry that here isn’t a better place to be.”

“Don’t know,” Geno says and Sid looks up to find Geno looking back at him. “Is not so bad.”

Sid huffs a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“Am right.” He pushes himself up onto his feet and crosses the short distance between them. “Have good company,” Geno says before leaning in and kissing him.

It feels like a major victory when they finally cross into South Dakota, as long as they ignore how big South Dakota actually is.

But Minnesota is only a state away and the end is in sight, even if it’s still nearly four hundred miles away.

“We can make it in twenty days even if we don’t have a car,” Sid tells him, nearly tripping over Судьба as she twirls around his feet.

“Not going to find a car,” Geno says. “No one live here.”

Sid can’t argue with that. It’s vast and desolate and they walk for three days before they even see a building.

It’s a dilapidated barn, its roof caved in and its paint peeling, set against a backdrop of dark grey thunderheads. The whole scene is eerie, straight out of a scene from a horror, and Sid can’t shake the feeling that it’s a bad omen.

They’re running low on food and they used the last of their Band-Aids while picking wild blackberries three days ago, their arms and legs torn up from the thorns as they made sure to pick every berry they saw.

They need something good, they need a win, and that’s why it feels like a miracle when they find a market a few miles down the road.

It’s a small brick building with a faded and torn American flag hanging out front. The windows are intact and the front doors are locked. When Sid cups his hand around the glass to peer in, it looks like shelves are still fully stocked.

“I don’t think there’s anyone in there,” Sid says.

“No one anywhere,” Geno says before he grabs the door handle and pulls it opened. “Not locked.”

“Probably didn’t have a chance to before everything happened.” He slips past Geno and steps into the market. “Lets see what we can find.”

The inside of the market is dark and dusty and there’s barely enough light to read the labels on the jars and cans, not that it matters. After this long on the road they’ve stopped being picky.

Luckily, there’s plenty of food on the shelves and Sid shoves cans of mixed nuts and jars of peanut butter _and_ jelly into his bag. Geno finds cans of tuna and takes the time to bend down and show Судьба the label, explaining to her that it’s food that she’ll actually want to eat. Судьба sniffs at the cans then goes back to twirling her way around Geno’s legs. She’s proven herself to be a terrible hunter, catching and releasing mice at Geno’s feet and watching them run back into the brush.

“Do you think she’ll let us share?” Sid asks, tearing into a box of Captain Crunch and jamming a handful into his mouth.

He holds the open box out for Geno, who bypasses it in favor of pulling Sid in for a kiss.

“I’m eating,” Sid laughs against Geno’s lips and Geno hums and kisses him again.

“Even better,” Geno says. “Taste extra sweet. Going to look for first-aid stuff.” He hums and rubs his hand against Sid’s cheek. “Maybe find a razor too. You need.”

“I like the beard,” Sid says, “it reminds me of the playoffs.”

“It’s itchy,” Geno says, leaning in for another kiss.

Sid feels himself blush. He’s still not used to this, the casual touches and kisses. Geno’s thumb softly rubbing the curve of his cheek.

“Like yours is any better,” Sid says, “both of us were always hopeless about growing them.”

Geno drops his hand and picks up Судьба then sets her on Sid’s shoulder before picking up his bag.

“No, take your cat with you,” Sid says as Судьба spins and flicks her tail against Sid’s face. “I take back what I said about your beard. You look good.”

“Oh,” Geno says with a grin, “I’m know that.”

“She hates me.”

“Doesn’t hate you,” Geno says as he rounds the corner and steps out of the aisle. “Just need to bond more. I’ll be right back.”

Sid sighs and puts the box of cereal back on the shelf before lifting Судьба off his shoulder. “I’m not Geno,” he says as he lowers her to the ground, “but he’ll be back real soon, I promise.”

She flicks her tail back and forth and growls, the hair on her back standing on end as she looks toward the back of the store.

“Don’t get an attitude with me,” Sid says as he kneels down next to his bag. He’s been throwing things in but he needs to do some rearranging to get more things to fit. “I wasn’t the one who decided to leave you with me.” He carefully takes the gun out of the bag and sets it down on the floor.

“Did you find anything?” he yells to Geno.

“Yes,” Geno yells back. “Band-Aids, Advil, condoms. You want me to get? Think I left mine back at hotel.”

Sid feels his body flush all over. “Ummm.”

He freezes, jar in hand when he hears shuffling coming from the aisle to the left when he knows Geno is a few aisles down on his right.

Sid slowly gets to his feet, taking the tire iron with him. He holds it up, ready to strike as he tip-toes down the aisle, careful to regulate his breathing so he doesn’t make any extra noise. When he gets to the end of the aisle, he carefully peeks around the corner and finds four walkers making their way up the aisle. They’re all dressed the same, khaki pants with a dark green polo and a name tag pinned just below the collar.

“Fuck,” Sid breathes before moving back down the aisle. He puts his bag over his shoulder and picks up at the gun and only makes it a few steps before he darts back, tucks the tire iron under his arm and scoops Судьба up. She hisses at him as he drops her into his bag and Sid apologizes. “My hands are full,” he tells her as he zips the bag partway up.

He moves swiftly, trying to make as little noise as possible but when he gets to the opposite end of the aisle his shoes squeak on the linoleum when he skids to a sudden stop.

There are more walkers coming up the back of the store. They must have been clumped together in the corner of the store, hidden by the darkness.

They should have been more careful. They shouldn’t have let the emptiness of the state get to them. It’s still dangerous. There is no safety.

From his vantage point he can see a set of swinging doors labeled Employees Only. It more than likely leads to a loading dock, a second, safer way out. The window for getting there is rapidly closing and Sid knows he has to move now so he can grab Geno and get him to safety.

He only gets one step out into the back aisle when he hears his name being called in a high, panicked voice and Sid sets off running.

Geno’s backed into a corner, back pressed against the shelves with three walkers closing in on him. His bag is at his feet but the baseball bat has been kicked to the side, completely out of reach.

“Sid!” Geno shouts desperately and Sid raises his arm, points the revolver at the ceiling, and pulls the trigger.

The sound echoes in his ears as dust falls from the ceiling tile falls around him. Sid coughs and the walkers turn, following the noise and Sid backs up and fires the gun again to keep them coming.

“Go,” he yells to Geno and Geno darts forward in the direction of the bat. “No, just go, you have to get out. There are more and if you don’t go now neither of us will get out. I’ll draw them away, just get out the front door and I’ll go out the back, I’ll find you, I promise, just go.”

Sid can see the conflict on Geno’s face before he finally grabs the baseball bat. Instead of rushing forward he turns and grabs his bag, throwing it onto his shoulder and running toward the front of the store.

Relief floods through Sid now that he knows Geno’s headed toward safety, but he still has to find a way out himself.

He keeps walking backwards, banging the tire iron against the shelves to keep the walkers attention. When he’s sure Geno’s had enough time to escape, he turns to make a run for the swinging doors. He catches his arm on the sharp corner of a shelf, the metal slicing through the underside of his bicep, and the shock of the pain makes him drop the tire iron. With the scent of fresh blood in the air the walkers start coming faster and he doesn’t have time to pick it up.

The swinging doors are blocked by a walker and Sid closes one eye and pulls the trigger, taking a chance on his aim.

It’s good, the walker falls to the floor, and he jumps over it and ducks through the door.

The walkers trip over the body as they follow. It slows them down considerably but a few still make it through, following Sid into the pitch-black room.

Sid’s eyes won’t adjust as quickly as he needs them to, so he keeps moving forward, bumping into crates and shelves as he goes, frantically searching for any light coming in from a door that might lead to the outside.

“Sid!”

He hears Geno’s voice to his left and turns, following the sound as the walkers advance behind him.

Geno’s standing there, propping the heavy fire door open with his foot, back-lit by grey skies.

“I’m here,” Sid yells as he kicks a cardboard box out the way. “I’m coming.”

Geno can’t see through the darkness but he steps back to make room. A moment later Sid bursts through, running so fast he needs the railing that wraps around the dock to stop himself.

Geno slams the door shut and leans against it to keep it closed as the walkers press against it, clawing and groaning on the other side.

“Go,” Geno says, tipping his head toward the stairs to the left of the dock. Sid nods and takes off, adrenaline still pumping as he skips down the steps.

Geno waits for him to clear the last one before he moves, the door bursting open behind him as the walkers spill out.

Most of them mindlessly walk straight out and press themselves against the railing while a few others try to follow Geno. They stumble down the stairs, bones cracking and snapping loudly as they fall. They don’t try to get back up.

A safe distance away, Sid’s bent over with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath when Geno sweeps him into a hug, pressing kisses along his hairline, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips.

“You okay?” Geno asks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sid assures him. “I’m okay.” It’s not the whole truth but he knows it’s what Geno needs to hear. He twists his arm so he can get a good look at the gash and winces at the blood that’s running down his arm and soaking into his shirt.

“Not okay,” Geno says, hands hovering above the cut. He looks like he’s about to cry or throw up, Sid can’t be sure. “You ...” He takes a breath and swallows. “Is it bite?”

“No, no,” Sid says, laying a hand against Geno’s chest and feeling his heartbeat drum against his palm. “It’s not a bite.” He runs his hand up to Geno’s neck and pulls him down so Geno’s forehead is pressed against his own. “I got snagged on a shelf. I was clumsy, I wasn’t bit. I’m okay.”

Geno closes his eyes and nods back, taking slow, measured breaths until he suddenly rips himself away and stares at the market.

“Судьба,” he says, sounding broken-hearted. Sid lowers his bag to the ground and kneels beside it.

“Fuck, shit, shit,” Sid says as he opens the zipper. Судьба pokes her head out and hisses at Sid before she jumps out.

Geno practically collapses onto the ground with relief as Судьба climbs onto his lap. He kisses the top of her head while Sid slumps back and covers his eyes with his hands.

“Fuck, fuck, thank fuck, that fucking cat.” Sid still has his face covered when Geno throws his arms around him, again, and kisses his temple with Судьба trapped between their bodies.

Geno presses his face to Sid’s neck and Sid can feel hot tears hitting his skin as he works his good arm free and holds Geno back.

In the distance, thunder rolls.

There’s a small housing development about a mile up the road. Six homes spaced around a cul-de-sac. They’re beautiful, if you look past the overgrown lawns out front, but they stick out like a sore thumb against the wild landscape.

The thunder is still a ways off but the skies to the east are pitch black. A storm is coming quickly and they’re going to need shelter.

Geno bypasses the first house and, before Sid can ask why, he spots movement in one of the front windows. It wouldn’t be hard to clear the house, even with Sid being down a weapon, but he guesses Geno’s had enough of walkers for the day. Sid can’t blame him.

Geno decides on the third house, the one painted a pretty shade of blue with a Subaru parked in the driveway and a privacy fence wrapped around the backyard.

The front door is locked but, instead of breaking in, Geno leads them around the side of the house and opens the gate, cradling Судьба in one hand against his chest. He hasn’t put her down once since she hopped out of Sid’s bag.

“We break in back here,” Geno tells him as he holds open the door. “Close gate, make sure no one can get in.”

Sid’s pretty sure they left the entire population of town back at the market but he waits out on the deck, holding an annoyed Судьба while Geno makes a sweep of the house.

“Is no one,” Geno says, sticking his head out the sliding glass door. “Can come in.”

Sid steps through to the kitchen and puts Судьба down on the counter.

“Found candles,” Geno says as he gestures to the small collection on the counter. “Is probably more. House is very ...” He trails off and looks around. “Like very bored soccer mom.” He shrugs.

“Lots of live, laugh, love decorations?” Sid asks and Geno laughs as he pulls a book of matches out of his bag.

“Yes, too many.” He strikes the match and lights the first wick, the flame casting his features in a warm glow.

He gets all the candles lit then bunches them together before blowing out the match and tossing it in the sink.

“Come here,” he says, digging through his bag for a bottle of water and a fresh pack of Band-Aids. “Going to clean you up.”

For the first time, Sid doesn’t fight it. He steps up beside Geno and lets himself be taken care of.

It’s still not raining by the time Geno has patched him up but the thunder is getting louder, closer.

They go through the house looking for buckets and bowls, anything that can be used to catch water, and set them outside.

Geno used nearly two full bottles of water to wash his own hands before he cleaned the blood off Sid’s skin.

Sid’s arm is tightly wrapped with gauze and tape. The bleeding has stopped but it’s still sore. It’s going to take a while for it to heal and he’s sure Geno will fuss over it every minute until it does.

They eat out on the back deck, waiting for the rain to arrive.

They dig into the peanut butter and jelly while Судьба noisily eats a can of catfood at their feet. When she’s done she stretches and heads back inside. They watch her jump onto the couch, knead at one of the throw pillows with her front feet, then curl into a tight ball on the cushion and fall asleep.

“Definitely house cat,” Geno says as he licks his spoon clean. “You done or want more?”

“I think I’m done,” Sid says as he recaps the peanut butter and lays his spoon across the lid. Geno brings everything inside.

Sid listens to him set the spoons in the sink before he unzips one of their bags to stowe away the food.

Lightning zips across the sky and, despite the upcoming storm, Sid feels perfectly safe, fenced in on all sides with Geno at his back.

The air smells earthy with the promise of rain, such a departure from the smell of death to which they’ve become accustomed.

He leans back in the wicker chair, puts his feet up on the matching footstool and holds his hands over his stomach. They get to sleep in a house tonight. In a real bed. Together. It’ll be the first time … their first time and —

“Think we deserve.”

Sid jumps when Geno presses one of the miniature bottles of alcohol to his shoulder and Geno laughs as he sits down beside him.

“Jumpy. Is okay, we safe here.” He twists the cap off the vodka and tips his head back, drinking it all in one go. “Drink,” he says as he nods to the bottle he gave to Sid then holds up a third bottle. “We share this one.”

Sid drinks. After months of not having any alcohol, the fifty milliliters of whisky is both too much and not enough all at once.

Geno hands him the third bottle, already having taken a small sip, and tells him to finish it. Sid has no problem tipping his head back to get every drop of vodka.

“Yes,” Geno says with a laugh. “Chug, chug, chug.”

Sid laughs in return and wipes his hand over his face. It was barely enough to get the taste of peanut butter out of his mouth, but he can’t deny he needed it.

“Looked for wine but wasn’t any. All I find is cooking wine.” Geno scrunches up his nose. “Maybe soccer mom take with her when she leave.”

“You think they left,” Sid asks,. “You don’t think they ...”

Geno shrugs. “They not here. There is car in driveway, but maybe they have two.”

“Why would you leave here?” Sid asks. “Where would you go?”

“Don’t know. Maybe they not mean to leave forever. Maybe they go to get food, never come back.”

It can go like that. It can happen that fast. It nearly happened to them today.

“You said you found cooking wine?” Sid asks and Geno nods.

“Can’t drink it, Sid.”

“Why not? There’s alcohol in it, isn’t there? You too good?” he teases and Geno shakes his head and stands up to go get it.

Barely a sip in, Sid wishes he had listened to Geno.

The wine is awful, but there’s alcohol lingering behind the overly salty and metallic taste and that’s enough to keep him going. He takes another swig then passes the bottle back to Geno, letting his eyes linger over the way his legs are splayed open and how the lightning that dances across the sky plays against his face.

Geno reaches for the bottle and lets their fingertips overlap before he takes it.

“When’d you first have sex?”

Sid chokes on the wine he’s still trying to swallow and wipes his hand over the back of his mouth.

Geno smiles, satisfied, and slouches down in the chair.

“What the fuck?” Sid asks and Geno grins before taking a sip.

“You heard. How old?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Why not? Who am I going to tell?” He gestures with the bottle to the empty yard, to the empty world. “End of the world, Sid. No time for secrets.”

Sid shakes his head and looks away. Geno pushes.

“Not gonna tell me with who? Not even her first name? Weak, Sid.”

It’s a dirty play and they both know it. Sid’s never backed down from a challenge no matter how ridiculous it is.

Sid stares out at the horizon. He can feel Geno’s eyes on him, waiting. “Kyle Martin,” he says, voice never wavering. He lolls his head to the side and looks at Geno. “If you count hand jobs after practice in Rimouski as sex.”

“So,” Geno starts, “I’m not ...”

“The first guy to touch my dick? No. Not at all.”

Geno looks away and Sid can’t tell if he’s jealous or interested.

“How long you last?” Geno says and Sid throws his head back and laughs.

“Oh, my god.”

“Just want to know. My first time,” he starts then pauses to hand the bottle to Sid when he asks for it. “Over so quick. So fast. Barely even get all the way in before I came.”

Sid laughs against the rim of the bottle.

“Even now,” Geno says, “have to really try to control myself.”

Sid laughs harder and Geno just smiles. He loves it.

“Can’t help it. I’m sensitive.”

“Even now,?” Sid asks and Geno nods. “God, that’s not at all … when I think of you —”

“You think of me?”

“I thought of you,” Sid says. He watches Geno take a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking of you. Even when … even before this. I’ve thought of you.”

Geno reaches for the bottle and sets it down on the deck. It tips and rolls onto the grass as the first rain drops start to fall. “I think maybe we go inside now,” Geno says and Sid’s quick to follow.

There’s a guest room downstairs with a perfectly made bed that’s clearly not been slept in since the bedding was last changed.

Geno brings in a candle, hand cupped around the flame to keep it from going out, and places it on the nightstand.

It’s not necessary, not with the lightning flashing outside, illuminating the room as the rain begins to pour.

Geno bullies Sid into sitting down on the edge of the bed and steps between his spread legs. Geno runs his hands through Sid’s hair. He tugs on it to tip Sid’s head back and Sid holds onto Geno’s hips.

“We have to talk,” Sid says and Geno shakes his head. “It’s important. It’s about what happened today.”

“Nothing happen today,” Geno says, another flash of lightning streaks across the sky. “Everything okay. We okay.”

“I could’ve gotten bit, I could’ve —”

Geno tugs on his hair. “You didn’t.”

“But I could’ve.”

“Sid. You ruin mood.”

Sid barrels on. “If something happens,” he says and Geno sighs.

“Sid.”

“There’s one bullet left in the gun.”

Geno’s jaw sets. “Stop.”

“You have to do it.”

“Stop.”

“Before I can change, I don’t want to be like that, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Geno closes his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t be myself. I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t know you or recognize you, I wouldn’t care.”

“I won’t do it,” Geno grits out and Sid shakes his head.

“You won’t have a choice. Geno, this is —”

“Stop,” Geno snaps, voice raising over a clap of thunder so loud it rattles the house. Sid snaps his mouth shut and Geno pushes forward and pushes Sid back on the mattress. Geno climbs over him, straddling his hips, and frames Sid’s face with his hands. He leans so close their noses are almost touching. “I’m not going to do,” Geno says, “I won’t have to. Nothing happen to you. Won’t let it. You hear me?” He slides his hand down so his fingers are gripping Sid’s chin nearly hard enough to hurt. “I never let anything happen to you. Never. You understand?”

He’s desperate, almost driven to tears with it and all Sid can do is nod and kiss back when Geno leans in all the way.

In the morning, Sid spends too much time running his fingers down the knobs of Geno’s spine, chasing the rays of sun that fall across his back.

He kisses Geno’s shoulder and the back of his neck, bites lightly at his earlobe until Geno shifts and smiles into the pillow.

“You better wake for good reason,” Geno says as he rolls over and pulls Sid close.

Later, after, they have breakfast, knees pressed together beneath the kitchen table.

Судьба eats her breakfast outside while they collect the water from the buckets and bowls. They fill all their water bottles plus the four empties they found in the garage and have enough left over to wash their hair.

A quarter of the closet upstairs is filled with men’s clothing and they find new shirts that fit well enough but all the pants are too big, a reminder of how much weight they’ve lost.

They find a hunting knife in the basement — a suitable replacement for Sid’s tire iron — and the keys to the Subaru, which has more than enough gas to get them to Minnesota.

Sid double checks the map from the passenger seat while Geno loads up the car with odds and ends from the house. Blankets and towels and a length of garden house so they can finally siphon gas. He takes the throw pillow off the couch for Судьба to sleep on in the back seat then climbs behind the wheel.

Geno backs down the driveway and, as soon as they hit the road, Sid reaches for his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of an original characters suicide- Sid and Geno come upon a car on the side of the road toward the beginning of this chapter. The man behind the wheel was bitten by a zombie and decided to kill himself (with a gun) rather than change. If you don't want to read this part skip from "He uses the car for balance..." to "Sid shrugs." You'll skip them talking about it. All you need to know is that they now have a revolver with four bullets in it.


	6. 45°33’04.4”N 94°09’05.5”W

They make it to Minnesota in just under five hours, clearly far ahead of whatever schedule Sid has in his head.

Geno can tell Sid’s getting nervous. He’s been quiet, staring out the window with his knee bouncing and the fingers on the hand that’s not holding Geno’s drumming against his thigh.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice the car has stopped until Geno has to pull his hand away to turn the key.

“Are we out of gas?” Sid asks, looking around like he’s just realizing where they are.

Geno shakes his head. “Not yet. Just think maybe we get out, stretch our legs. Is nice here.”

It is, with tall evergreens lining the road on both sides and the afternoon sun filtering through the branches.

“Should be lots of water here,” Geno says as he gets out of the car and opens the back door to grab Судьба. She meows, displeased about being woken up, then stretches when he puts her on the ground. “Minnesota is land of one thousand lakes, right?”

“That’s actually Finland,” Sid says, joining Geno at the front of the car. He has his arms raised over his head, hands reaching for the sky, and Geno can almost hear his muscles shift and pop. “Michigan is the land of _ten_ thousand lakes.”

Geno grins and pokes at him. “You learn that from podcast?”

Sid bats his hand away with a smile. “No, actually, Olli told me that.” Slowly the smile fades and Geno drops his hand to his side.

Olli. Tanger, Phil, Flower, Kuni. Who knows what’s become of them.

Sid tries to rally, but his smile seems tense and forced when he says, “I’m sure Minnesota has plenty of lakes, though. We’ll be all right.” He leans back against the hood of the car, arms crossed over his chest as he chews on his bottom lip.

“You nervous?” Geno asks and Sid’s eyebrows pinch together.

“About what?”

Geno tips his head to the side. “You know, yeah? How far away are we?”

“I don’t know.”

Geno rolls his eyes. “Sid.”

“Less than a hundred and fifty miles. Closer to one twenty.”

“Is okay to be nervous,” Geno tells him. Sid tightens his arms around himself even more, his thumb grazing the bottom of the bandage on his arm. It’s coming unstuck, peeling up at the corner. Geno reaches out and smoothes it back down.

“This whole time I’ve been telling myself that she’s alive and I’m going to find her and then after that …” He looks at Geno. He looks miserable. “It’s been so long, Geno. I mean, what was I thinking, that I would just open the door to her room and find her sitting there at her desk working on her laptop? That’s crazy. Why didn’t you tell me I was crazy?”

“Is not crazy to have hope.”

“It is to drive halfway across the country for it, dragging you with me, risking your life.”

“Your life, my life, is all the same now. I go where you go.”

Sid sighs and Geno puts his hand on his shoulder.

“I have to go,” Sid says. “I have to find out. I have to know. If she’s turned, if she’s —.” He takes a deep breath and uncrosses his arms so he can rub his hand over his chest, like that’s going to help get the words out. “I can’t leave her like that. I have to do something.”

“Won’t be alone,” Geno tells him as he slides his hand across Sid’s shoulder. “If it’s hard or you need help —”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” Sid interrupts. “Not like what we’ve been doing, it’s going to be worse than that. It’s not a small campus and we’re only two people with a baseball bat and a knife.”

“And a gun,” Geno points out.

“With one bullet. I know you think nothing is going to happen to us but this is serious. This could be it.”

Geno takes a deep breath and nods once before he shakes his head. “No,” he says. “We are going to be okay.”

“Geno,” Sid says, exasperated at the constant optimism. Geno laughs. “Come on.”

“Am coming on,” Geno says. “Will figure it out. You come up with a plan, we follow it, find your sister — alive and healthy — and we go … wherever we want to go. I’m believe that.”

“You really do, don’t you?” Sid asks and Geno nods. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Don’t have to find out,” Geno says as Судьба jumps up onto the hood of the car. She stands up on her hind legs and reaches out with her front paw to touch the arm that’s wrapped around Sid’s shoulder.

“She hates me,” Sid says and Geno shakes his head.

“No, she just jealous. Want all of my attention.” He steps in front of Sid, hand sliding back across Sid’s shoulders until it’s cupping his neck, and he presses him back against the car. “Should look away, Судьба,” he says as he leans in for a kiss. “Won’t like.”

They make their way across the state, Geno driving while Sid draws a map of the campus from memory. He spent a lot of time Googling the school and the campus before she applied, making sure it was good enough for her.

“I’ve been there,” Sid says as he draws another square on the back of the road map. “Last year during bye week, I went to see her play.” He points to the square with the point of his pen. “This is the hockey center. It’s over by the river and there’s a football field behind it.”

“You think she would be in hockey center?” Geno asks, glancing over.

Sid shakes his head. “No, but I know for sure that’s the hockey center.”

According to Sid, Taylor’s dorm is about a half-mile up the river. “She had a view of the water, so her room must be on the east side and I know it was all the way at the end of the hall.”

“You remember what floor?” Geno asks.

Sid briefly closes his eyes, trying to remember. “Second or third. We weren’t on the elevator very long. Second. I think it’s the second.”

“Good,” Geno tells him, “that’s good. Will be easy to find.”

Sid’s mouth twists as he draws a line from the hockey center to the dorm. “There’s a lot between here and there. I think the bookstore is somewhere around here,” he says as he draws a star on the map. “A dining hall, a couple of coffee places. She could be anywhere. We can’t look for her everywhere. Fuck, she might not even be on campus.” He drops the pen and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “It was a Saturday when this whole thing started, right? She could be anywhere.”

“We check her dorm,” Geno says, reaching over to pull one of Sid’s hands away from his face and lace their fingers together. “Is a good place to start. She was alive, Sid. You know that, we heard her. Why think the worst?”

“Because this is the worst,” Sid says with a humorless laugh. “I mean, look around.” He gestures up the road and Geno turns the wheel just enough to miss a pair of walkers limping toward them.

That’s been happening more often. They’ve left the wide, open desert behind and the population has begun to increase. It’s becoming harder and harder to skip past larger towns, which has been a blessing and a curse.

Through trial and error, Geno’s been able to syphon gas out of three cars to keep the Subaru going while Sid stood guard, killing enough walkers that the knife and his arms were completely covered with black blood.

Geno has been steadily feeling the fear creep up and it’s getting harder and harder to push it back down. He has to, though. He has to believe the words he’s saying to Sid.

“We’ll find her.”

“You make big promises, Geno.” Geno hums and presses a kiss against the back of Sid’s hand. “Is good thing I always follow through.”

They park the car on a quiet access road two miles from the university.

Geno opens the sunroof and rolls down the windows just enough for Судьба to squeeze through if needed, then cracks open a can of cat food for her.

“You think she’ll stay?” Sid asks as Geno pets her while she eats.

“Hope so.”

It would be irresponsible to take her. They need to be fast and light on their feet and that’s hard to do with a cat clinging to his shoulder. They’re leaving their bags behind so she can’t even hitch a ride in that. He knows it’s the right decision and the best chance for her survival, but it’s still heartbreaking to leave her. He doesn’t want her to think she’s been abandoned again. He fills a bowl with water and sets it on the seat beside her then leans down to kiss her head.

“Stay,” he tells her. “Will be back.”

She purrs in response and Geno wipes at his eyes as he leans out of the car and closes the door.

“Hey,” Sid says as he rubs his hand across Geno’s back. “We will be back. She’ll be okay.”

Geno’s not sure if Sid believes it, but he appreciates hearing it all the same.

It becomes apparent very quickly that it’s going to be just as dangerous as Sid had predicted.

There are walkers before they even hit the campus — students with their backpacks still slung over their shoulders or teachers and faculty in faded scraps of clothing that once were skirts or trousers with lanyards and laminated ID badges hanging from their necks.

They’re forced off the road and down a path that leads along the river, but it isn’t long before they’re overwhelmed by walkers there, as well. They’re pushed farther down to the banks of the Mississippi, where the terrain is rough and slow going as they fight through mud and thick underbrush. At least the only thing biting at them are the mosquitoes.

They walk until their shoes and the bottom of their jeans are caked in mud and Sid finally spots a building that looks familiar through the trees.

It’s harder to get up the embankment than it was to get down it but, once they reach the top, they can clearly see the back of the building and the small parking lot they’ll need to cross to get to the door.

There are a handful of walkers ambling around the lot, mostly sticking to the perimeter, but when Geno leans to the side and looks down the driveway leading out onto the campus he can see hoards of them wandering around. A loud noise, a wrong move or a change in the direction of the wind could send more down the drive toward them.

If they want to do this, they have to be extra careful.

“Have to be quiet,” he whispers into Sid’s ear. “If the door is locked we can’t break.”

Sid doesn’t acknowledge him. In his single-minded focus, he doesn’t even take his eyes off the window on the far end of the second floor.

“You can’t see,” Geno continues, “but there are walkers at the front so we can’t —”

“I’m gonna make a run for it,” Sid says before he’s pushing himself up and over the lip of the embankment.

Geno reaches for him to pull him back down but Sid slips out of his grasp and Geno has no choice but to run after him.

Sid makes a beeline for the door and the sound of his feet against the pavement is loud enough to catch the walkers’ attention. Sid doesn’t seem to notice them closing in on him, too preoccupied with getting to the door, so Geno steps up and swings, wincing each time the bat cracks against a skull. It’s too loud and Geno’s sure he’ll turn and see a swarm of walkers coming around the corner at any moment but, thankfully, the door is open to the lobby and Sid pushes his way through.

Geno is on his heels, nearly colliding into him as Sid stops to sink his knife into the base of a walker's skull just inside the door.

Geno spots the door for the stairs first and pushes Sid toward it. The door is heavy but they push through and the sound of it closing behind them echoes through the stairwell.

“Sid.” Geno gasps his name as Sid bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Geno follows and uses his long legs to his advantage, catching up to Sid right before he throws open the door to the second floor.

He grabs Sid by the arm and shoves him back against the wall next to the door.

Sid’s eyes are wide and his nostrils flare as he strains against Geno’s weight to get to the door.

“Have to stop,” Geno tells him, pushing him back until Sid’s flat against the wall, unable to shift any of his weight forward. “Have to slow down, don’t know what’s outside that door.”

“Taylor’s room is at the end of the hall,” Sid says frantically. “I’m so close, G, I have to know.”

“Okay,” Geno soothes. “I’m know, it’s okay.” He presses his hand to the middle of Sid’s chest to keep him in place while he looks out the narrow, rectangular window in the door. He can see five walkers roaming the long hallway. None of them appear to be a blonde woman.

“Okay,” Geno says, letting up on Sid just a little, “only five, we can —”

Sid slips free of Geno’s grasp and pushes his way through the door, knife raised and ready. One after another, Sid quickly and easily dispatches the walkers, sinking his knife in and pulling it out. When the final walker falls to the floor in a heap, Sid sprints to the end of the hall before coming to an abrupt halt outside one of the doors. He puts his hand on the door knob, but it doesn’t move.

When Geno catches up, he sees a small dry-erase board stuck to the front of it with two names written on it. Most of the letters have worn off but Geno can make out a T, and A and an L on the first line.

“Sid,” Geno starts, stopping when he hears movement from behind the door. There’s definitely someone in there and, going by the uneven pattern of footsteps, they don’t sound human.

Sid steps back and covers his face with the hand that’s not holding the knife. His fingers slide into his hair as he makes a low, miserable sound.

“Geno,” he half sobs as Geno steps up and pulls him in for a tight hug. “I have to go in,” Sid says, voice thin and shaking. “I have to. I can’t leave her like that. I have to do something. That’s my sis —” He voice cracks and breaks before he takes a breath and tries again. “That’s my sister.”

“Don’t have to,” Geno tells him, lips moving against Sid’s temple. “Don’t have to see. I can do it, you don’t have to go in.”

“I have to,” Sid says but it sounds weak as his knees begin to fold and he slides down the opposite wall.

Geno goes with him, kneeling on the floor as Sid brings his knees up to his chest and buries his face in his arms.

Geno pets his hand over the top of Sid’s head. “I can do it,” he tells Sid. “Gonna be okay, I can do it.”

Sid nods, face still hidden in his arms as Geno gets to his feet. “Wait,” Sid says, lifting his head and holding out the knife. “Take this, it’ll be quicker. Please.” He gestures to the bat. “Don’t use that.”

Geno kneels back down and presses a fierce kiss to the middle of Sid’s forehead. “Stay,” Geno says. “Stay, will be back.”

Sid nods and shifts his arms so his face is pressed against his knees and his hands cover his ears. He rocks, just slightly, back and forth as Geno nods and squares up to kick down the door.

The first thing he sees when the door crashes open is a body lying face down on the floor next to one of the two twin beds. There’s a gash on the back of her head, barely visible through the tangle of blood and dark hair.

It’s not Taylor, but as he looks around the small space, it’s obvious that this is her room. There’s a Canadian flag hanging on the wall above the other bed as well as a Terrible Towel and a Pittsburgh Penguins Stanley Cup Champions pennant.

He leans over to get a better look at the photos stuck to the cork board above her desk and freezes when he hears a scratching sound followed by a low groan. The noise is coming from behind the closed bathroom door and, when he turns the handle, it pops open. He doesn’t let himself hesitate or overthink it, he just steps through the door and plunges the knife into the side of the walker’s head when it charges at him.

Once it’s dead and on the ground he finally lets himself breathe. The first thing he notices when he looks down is short, red hair.

He rushes out of the room and back into the hall, where Sid still has himself completely closed off from the outside world.

“Is not her,” Geno whispers loudly as he drops to his knees and tugs Sid’s hands off his ears. “Is not her, Sid!”

Sid opens his eyes, recoiling when he sees the fresh blood on the knife. Geno tosses it to the side.

“Is not her,” he says again. “Taylor not in there. She not in there. It’s her roommate or friend, don’t know, but there are two bodies and both not Taylor. She not in there, Sid.”

He repeats it over and over until Sid’s eyes go wide with understanding and he pushes himself up and past Geno to run into the room.

He’s standing over the body in the bedroom when Geno finds him, hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Dark hair,” Geno says as he points to the walker’s head. “One in the bathroom has red hair. Taylor is blonde, yeah, she not dye her hair?”

“No,” Sid says quietly, “she would have told me. She would have told my mom, who would’ve told me. They’re not her. She’s not here.”

“Okay,” Geno says. He’s not sure why Sid looks so defeated. “Okay, so, that’s good. She’s not here so she’s —”

“Somewhere else,” Sid finishes for him. “She’s out there, somewhere, and I’ll never know what happened to her.”

“No,” Geno says as he steps forward and reaches for Sid. He curls a hand around Sid’s elbow and tugs, trying to get his attention. “Listen, will be hard, yes, but we can keep looking. You say bookstore is around here? We go back to the car, plan, regroup. We can figure it out. We can still find her.”

Sid shakes his head and pulls his arm away. “No,” he says, “it’s over. Let’s go.”

He turns to leave and Geno follows after he pulls the Penguins pennant off the wall. He rolls it up and jams it in his back pocket then covers it with his shirttail as he steps out into the hallway.

Sid picks up the knife and hands Geno his bat before walking quickly down the hall to the stairwell with Geno right beside him.

The lobby is how they left it, but there are more walkers in the parking lot and Sid rubs a hand across his brow, smearing blood, before he takes a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” he asks. Geno nods.

It’s a fight to get back to the river. Geno’s getting tired of swinging the bat and Sid’s hand is covered in blood from where it’s dripping down the blade of the knife, but eventually they slide back down the embankment. A couple of walkers tumble down after them and, unable to stop themselves, fall into the river and are quickly swept downstream.

Geno watches them get tossed around by the current, their heads bobbing up and down over the waterline before they finally disappear out of sight.

When he looks back to Sid, he finds that he’s already far ahead and Geno needs to hurry to catch up.

They find Судьба on the roof of the car, back bristled and hissing at a walker who has its arms raised and reaching for her. Судьба is in no real danger, the walker is too short to reach her and Судьба could easily hop back through the sunroof and into the car, but that doesn’t stop Sid from taking off running.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Sid shouts and Geno runs after, warning him to be quiet.

“Could be others,” Geno tells him as Sid grabs the walker by the back of its neck and throws it down. “Could hear you.”

Geno pulls Судьба down from the roof and presses little kisses to her head while Sid kills the walker.

Not content with the damage that the knife has done, Sid kicks at its body and head until it’s skull is beaten to a pulp, swearing and yelling the whole time.

“Sid, is enough,” Geno says but Sid ignores him. Geno puts Судьба down on the hood and has to bear hug Sid from behind to pull him away from the walker. “Is okay,” Geno soothes. “Is all right.”

Sid struggles against Geno’s grip for only a moment before he drops the knife and turns in Geno’s arms.

“I was supposed to find her,” he sobs, hot tears soaking into Geno’s shirt as he presses his face to Geno’s neck. “She’s my sister, I was supposed to protect her.”

He breaks down, knees buckling as Geno slowly lowers him to the ground. Sid clings to him, unconsolable, but Geno still tries, making soft soothing noises and rubbing his hands up and down his back.

Sid cries and Geno holds him until Судьба jumps down from the hood and sits in front of Sid. She lifts one front paw and taps and taps against Sid until Sid huffs a watery laugh against Geno’s neck.

“She don’t like when you cry,” Geno tells him as Sid slowly unfolds himself from Geno’s body. As soon as there’s room, Судьба climbs onto Sid’s lap and stretches herself up to sniff at the teartracks that fall down his cheeks. “Don’t like it when you’re sad.”

Sid runs a tentative hand down her back and Судьба purrs and arches up into the touch.

“She like you,” Geno tells him and Sid sniffs.

“She feels sorry for me.”

Geno makes a disapproving sound and kisses Sid’s temple. “No, she love.” He pushes himself up to one knee and crooks a finger beneath Sid’s chin. “She not the only one.”

Sid doesn't say anything, but Geno doesn’t need him to.

Geno washes the blood from his hands and his arms before he changes into a new shirt. He does the same for Sid, who is still sitting on the ground holding a purring Судьба in his arms.

He balls up Sid’s blood-soaked shirt and looks back toward the campus.

A group of walkers is slowly making its way toward them and Geno drops the shirt on the ground.

“Have to go, Sid,” he says, stepping in front of him and hooking his hands beneath his arms to pull him up. Sid holds tight to Судьба as he stands.

“Where?”

“Somewhere not here,” Geno says as he opens the passenger-side door and ushers Sid in.

For the first time, they drive with no destination in mind. Geno’s not even sure which direction he’s headed as Sid sits with his head against the window and Судьба curled up in his lap.

The silence stretches between them for miles and miles until Geno can’t stand it anymore.

“Where you think she’d go?”

Sid lifts his head off the window. “Who?”

“Taylor,” Geno says and Sid shakes his head before pressing his temple back against the glass.

“Leave it alone, Geno.”

“No, where would she go?”

“Stop.”

“You think she’d go to Pittsburgh?”

“Geno, I said stop. Let it go, she’s gone.”

“Don’t know that, Sid.”

“I can’t do this,” Sid says softly and Geno taps his fingers on the wheel and chews at his lip, trying to decide how far to push.

“No,” Geno snaps. He’s going to push far. “No, not going to let you do this. This is not you, this is not my Sid. You have chance to keep looking for family and you just say no. No way.”

“You think she’s alive,” Sid says. “How can you think that? There’s no way —”

“We alive. Why you not think she’s alive?”

“That’s different, we’re different. We have each other. She’d be all alone.”

“You don’t think she could have friend —”

“You’re more than just a friend,” Sid says and Geno lets that sit for a moment before he grabs the map off the dashboard and holds it out to Sid.

“You think she would go to Pittsburgh?”

Sid stares at the map before he sighs and takes it. “No,” he says. “She might if I was there but she knew I was in San Jose for the All-Star Game.”

“Okay,” Geno says slowly. The idea of going back the way they came seems daunting. “So you think —”

“No.” Sid shakes his head. “She wouldn't go to California.”

“Then where?”

“Home,” Sid says, fingers ghosting over the far edge of the map where Nova Scotia would be. “She’d go back to my parents’ place.”

Geno nods. “Good. Okay.”

Sid blinks. “Okay?”

“Yes, okay. You tell me which way to go.”

“Just like that … that’s … G, Cole Harbour is like, two thousand miles away and there’s not an easy route.” He draws his finger across the map and shakes his head. We can’t go through Minneapolis or Chicago or Detroit and to go around them would be —”

“Then we go up.” Geno taps the top of the map. “Go up and over.”

“That’s ...” Sid stops and sighs. “That’s crazy. All that way for what?”

“For you,” Geno tells him and Sid’s mouth snaps shut. “Now tell me,” Geno says gently, “which way?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geno has to leave Судьба in the car while he and Sid go to Taylor's dorm and I PROMISE they come back for her and everything is okay.


	7. 45°13’06.1” N 96°37’36.0”W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it!

Sid thought it would feel different, to finally be back in Canada.

Actually, he never thought he’d be back in Canada at all. The road map of his life had been cut off long before this moment, with Lake Superior to his right and hundreds of thousands of acres of untamed wilderness to his left.

Geno’s been driving for hours, only stopping to piss or to syphon gas from the few cars they pass.

He drives with a lead foot, he always has.

Sid wants to tell him to slow down, that they’re not in a rush. Time is no longer of the essence when there’s nothing waiting for you at the end of the road.

They sleep in the car, the back seat folded down so they have more room to stretch. Geno folds him up in his arms while Судьба curls herself up around his head.

He feels coddled, like Geno feels if he doesn’t hold onto him tightly enough he’s going to break apart into a million pieces.

Sid doesn’t think he could muster up the energy to do that even if he wanted to. As the shores of Lake Superior disappear behind them, he finds that he’s thinking of himself less and less. He doesn’t care if he’s hungry or thirsty or how well he slept. He doesn’t care what happens to him — as long as Geno is safe.

He has no hope of finding Taylor and the odds that his parents will still be alive are too slim even to consider. Geno is the only person in the entire world that he cares about and he’s ready to do whatever it takes to keep him alive.

The map they’ve been using doesn’t extend up into Canada so, without the guidance of the lakes, they’re flying blind.

Sid’s okay with it, content to drift and wander, feeling no need to stay on route now that he doesn’t really care where they end up. He wants to ball the map up and throw it as far as he can into the woods or let it go out the car window while Geno’s driving too fast down the road so he can watch it flutter behind them.

But Geno insists that they keep it.

“Need it when we cross into Maine,” he says, head buried deep in the glove compartment of an old Toyota they spotted on the side of the road and stopped to check for anything useful. “Right? Is best way to go?”

It takes Sid a moment to respond, too preoccupied with staring up the road, looking out for danger.

“Sure, that works.”

“But is best way to go?”

“Probably the most direct,” Sid answers, looking back over his shoulder at Geno. “You don’t need a map. If we keep going east we’ll hit the Atlantic.”

“Yes, but east is also Ottawa and Montreal. Think we should probably miss. Ah! Look!”

“You found a map?”

“Better.” Geno emerges from the car and turns, tongue tucked between his teeth and his hands behind his back. “Close eyes. Have a surprise.”

“You know I don’t really like surprises.”

“Is a good one,” Geno says, unperturbed. “Go ahead. Close.”

Sid takes another look up the road and sighs, giving in and shutting his eyes.

He feels something slide onto his face and set over his ears and nose and when he opens his eyes he sees Geno in shadows.

He ducks down to look in the side mirror and touches the frames of the oversized glasses with his fingertips.

“I think these are women’s glasses,” he says and Geno grins.

“You think someone will say something,” he asks, gesturing to the empty world that surrounds them. “Will stop you from squinting when the sun gets in your eyes. I’m know it happens, I watch.”

“You should be keeping your eyes on the road, not on me,” Sid says and Geno rolls his eyes. “You’re the one driving, you should be wearing them.” He takes them off and hands them to Geno as the smile dips from Geno’s face. “Actually,” he pulls the glasses back and puts them on his face. “I changed my mind, I want to wear them. They look better on me anyways.”

Geno scoffs but the light is back in his eyes. “You sure? Maybe I should try on to see.” He reaches out but Sid intercepts him and grabs onto his hand.

“Thank you,” Sid says, “and I’m sorry you didn’t find a map.”

“Is okay,” Geno says with a shrug. “I keep looking. We still have time before we have to worry about big cities. We can figure out, together, yeah?” Sid squeezes Geno’s hand and nods.

According to the road signs they’re eighty kilometres outside of Ottawa when Sid spots two walkers on the road up ahead.

It would be unremarkable, no different from any other group of walkers they’ve passed while driving, if not for the smaller figure beside the taller one.

“Oh fuck,” Geno says softly and Sid feels the car slow down just a bit as Geno eases off the gas. “Fuck.”

“I know,” Sid tells him. It’s the first time they’ve seen a kid out here and, before now, Sid’s been able to push the thought from his mind. This disease, this sickness, doesn’t care who it infects. There is no age limit.

“What we do?” Geno asks and Sid glances over at him. He’s holding the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as they get closer and closer to the walkers.

“What do you mean?”

“We just leave them like that? Is a little kid.”

“You can’t expect me to do anything about it,” Sid says, shocked that Geno would even consider it. An adult is one thing, his sister would have been another, but a child, especially one that isn’t a threat to them … “Could you do it?” he asks.

Geno doesn’t say anything but Sid can figure out what the answer is when he feels the car begin to pick up speed again.

The walkers are only a few yards away now and Sid looks down at his lap so he doesn’t have to see the kid. He’s not sure he could face it.

They speed past but, before Sid can even lift his head, Geno is slamming on the brakes. Судьба tumbles off the back seat and Sid barely has the time to brace himself against the dashboard, his sunglasses slipping off his face and falling to the floor.

Geno turns to check on Судьба, apologizing as she hops back up on the seat, before he unbuckles his seat belt.

“What the fuck?” Sid asks. Geno looks over at him with wide eyes.

“They alive, Sid.”

Sid blinks at him then turns around to look through the rear window. There is a man and a child, father and son. The boy — maybe six or seven years old — is standing off to the side of the road. The man has a hand on the boy’s shoulder and they’re both wearing backpacks and baseball caps.

“Where are you going?” Sid asks as Geno opens the car door. Sid grabs his arm. “You don’t know anything about them. They could be dangerous.”

“There’s a kid, Sidney,” Geno says sharply before he shakes off Sid’s hand and climbs out of the car.

Sid sighs and swears then unbuckles his belt and pops open his door.

The man tucks the boy behind him, shielding him, and Geno approaches with his hands up.

“Is okay,” Geno says. “You okay?”

“We’re all right,” the man says. He still sounds tense as the boy peeks around his legs. “Trying to be.”

Geno nods and smiles, trying to show them that he’s not a threat while Sid opens the back door and digs through his bag for the gun, just in case.

“Where you going?” Geno asks and the man shrugs.

“Don’t know,” he says. “Anywhere. We’re just trying to stay alive, you know?”

“Is quiet back that way,” Geno says as he nods in the direction he came from. “Not a lot of walkers. Should be pretty safe.”

The man looks down the road and nods. “Thanks. Is there any water that way?”

“Have water in car,” Geno says and Sid feels his blood pressure spike. “Hold on.”

“Geno,” Sid warns as he rounds the back of the car where Geno already has the hatch open. The man takes a step back, like he wasn’t expecting a second person to appear. “Geno, think about this,” Sid whispers. “You’re giving away our water.”

“Can spare a few bottles, Sid,” Geno snaps before he continues to dig through his bag. He glances down and shakes his head. “Put gun away, Sid. What is wrong with you?”

Geno grabs three bottles of water and a couple cans of food. He gives Sid a dark look before he turns back to the man and the boy. “Is not a lot,” Geno tells them, “but is something.”

The man steps forward, the boy shuffling along with him, fingers gripping the fabric of his father’s jeans.

He’s terrified, clearly, and Sid’s heart aches.

Sid puts the gun back in the bag as the father thanks Geno and asks if there’s anything he could give him in return.

“Directions,” Geno says. “Want to make sure we miss big cities but don’t have map.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Nova Scotia,” Geno says and the man whistles.

“Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?”

Geno nods and waves him around to the front of the car.

The man uses the back of the U.S. map and one of the few pens that still work to draw lines and routes, pointing out intersections that Geno should take and warning Geno of the ones he shouldn’t.

Geno looks a little lost and Sid should probably be listening more intently but he’s distracted by Судьба, who has jumped out of the car and is rolling in the dirt at the boy's feet.

He’s looking down at her, like he’s not sure what to do. It’s probably been a while since he’s seen something so full of life.

“You can pet her,” Sid says and the boy jumps. “Sorry,” he says gently, “but you can pet her. She’s friendly.”

Slowly, the boy lays his hand across her side and Судьба trills and stands so she can weave herself around his legs.

The boy smiles and sits down as Судьба purrs and climbs onto his lap.

It’s not long before Geno and the boy’s father are shaking hands and Geno is rolling up the map.

“Andrew,” the man says, “come on, it’s time to go.”

The boy, Andrew, stands and Судьба hops off his lap.

“Could come with us,” Geno offers while Sid screams inside. They can’t split their food and water four ways. They won’t make it. “Would be safer,” Geno continues and the man shakes his head.

“No, thank you, but no.” He holds his hand out for Andrew to take. He smiles when Andrew reaches out for him but there’s sadness in his eyes. “There’s nothing left for us back there. We have to keep going.”

Geno nods and thanks him again then picks up Судьба and loads her back into the car. They say their goodbyes with Sid already sitting in the passenger seat, buckled and ready to go.

Geno pulls away slowly. Even though Sid has his eyes firmly on the road ahead, he knows Geno’s watching Andrew and his father disappear in the rear view mirror.

“Don’t be mad,” Geno says after a long stretch of silence. “Was only three watter bottles and two cans of carrots. You not even like those.”

“I’m not mad,” Sid says and Geno huffs.

“Know when you lie,” Geno tells him. “Know how you sound. You bad at it.”

Sid decides the best thing to say is nothing and Geno takes one hand off the wheel and rubs it across his forehead like he can feel a headache coming on.

“So you just be like that then? Mad and not talk? Is nice Sid,” Geno says, voice sharp with sarcasm, “real nice.”

Sid reaches down to grab his sunglasses and slides them onto his face before he shoves his knees against the passenger side door and angles his body away from Geno.

“Fine, Sid,” Geno mumbles. “Fine.”

Geno navigates on his own, glancing down at the crudely drawn map spread out across his thighs.

Sid would help if Geno asked him to, or if he thought they were getting completely turned around, but Geno seems to be doing fine. He goes around Ottawa and avoids Montreal completely by dipping back into America and going through upstate New York.

He flips the map over triumphantly and glances at Sid with a smile on his face before he catches himself and remembers that they’re not talking.

Storms roll through that night. Rain and thunder and lightning and wind so strong it rocks the car.

They eat a cold dinner and Судьба sleeps in the space they leave between them. It feels like it’s been forever since Sid’s fallen asleep without Geno’s arms wrapped around him.

It’s still drizzling in the morning and Sid skips breakfast altogether, too tired to eat. Geno takes his time eating, letting Судьба wander. She climbs halfway up a tree before jumping down then tears around the road, batting the leaves hanging from a small branch that’s fallen into the middle of it before stretching and jumping up onto the hood of the car.

“Okay,” Geno says to her as he wipes his hands on the back of his jeans. “You ready to go, we go.”

He loads everything back into the car and starts driving again.

They don’t make it far.

Sid has his eyes closed, trying desperately to drift off when he hears Geno swear and stop the car.

“What’s the matter?” Sid asks, they’ve barely been driving for five minutes, they should have enough gas. “What’s wrong?” Geno cuts the engine and points out the front window. Up ahead a tree has fallen across the road, completely blocking it.

It’s too big to move and there’s no way the car can get around or over it, which means they’ll have to walk.

Something in Sid snaps.

“Fuck.” He bangs his hands on the dashboard. “Fuck. What the fuck?”

“Is tree, Sid,” Geno says, sounding as tired as Sid feels. “Nothing we can do. Come, we walk.”

“No,” Sid shouts and Geno rolls his eyes and opens the door so he can climb out. The indifference makes Sid’s blood boil and he throws open the door then slams it behind him.

“Why you so mad?” Geno asks, opening the back door for Судьба to jump out before opening the hatch and grabbing his bag. “We walk before. Is no big deal.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal if you didn’t give our food and water away.”

Geno groans and rounds the front of the car. “You still complain about that? Was three bottles, Sid, three bottles we find in house in South Dakota. We travel all that way, through desert, without them. Think we will be fine.”

“That’s not the point,” Sid says, even though he’s unsure what the point is. “Why do you keep doing this? Why are you pushing this? Why are you making me do this?”

“Do what, Sid?”

“Why are you making me go home? Why do I have to look at my parents empty house? Why are you forcing this?”

“Don’t know house is empty,” Geno says, “could be there.”

“They’re not. They’re dead. Taylor is dead, the guys in Pittsburgh … dead. Everyone I’ve ever loved is dead.”

Sid watches Geno’s face change from angry to disappointed to hurt and Sid immediately wants to take it back.

“I’m still here,” Geno says, voice low. “But maybe that don’t matter.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Sid says as Geno hauls his bag onto his shoulder and closes the hatch back. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Geno turns and starts to walk away, Судьба following behind. “Sure, Sid.”

“Can we talk for a second,” Sid asks, following as Geno steps off the side of the road so he can walk around the tree's roots. “I don’t want to fight.”

Out here they could die at any moment. He doesn’t want to spend his last moments with Geno being angry at him.

“Geno, please.”

Geno turns and Sid takes a step back and backs into the tree.

“Fine, want to talk? I talk, you listen. Maybe you right. Maybe we are only ones out here. Maybe everyone else is dead and we walk all this way for nothing. But maybe not.” He puts his hand over his heart. “No matter what, I’m never see my family again. I have no chance. You still do so, yes, am going to push. Am going to force. Even if chance is very little, am going to try and find family for you.”

“I never asked you to do this,” Sid says and Geno shakes his head.

“I love you,” Geno says and Sid looks down at his feet. “Will always do whatever I can to make you happy no matter how crazy. Don’t have to ask.”

Sid feels his blood rushing in his ears and his face go hot.

He’s known this. He’s known how Geno has felt about him for awhile now but it’s a different feeling entirely to hear it. There’s no hiding from it now. No playing dumb.

“Am going to Nova Scotia,” Geno says, “can come or not, am done begging.”

He turns and walks away and without thinking twice about it, Sid follows.

Geno sets a swift pace but Sid intentionally lags behind, giving him space.

It feels like the right thing to do but it throws off Судьба, who walks between them, turning to look back at Sid every few steps to make sure he’s still following.

They walk for hours on winding back roads with dense forest on both sides. It’s shady, the sun blocked by the trees and there’s plenty of water, brooks and streams and creeks running along and beneath the road.

It’s a far cry from the desert highway they had been on.

He hopes Geno knows where he’s going. They’re incredibly isolated out here. They don’t pass a single car or house. There are no road signs and every time Geno puts the map away after studying it, he ends up taking it back out a minute later for a second look.

“Is everything all right?” Sid finally asks. They’ve been walking for hours now and he had no idea if they’re still in New York or if they’ve already crossed into Vermont or if they’ve headed back up north into Canada. “I can take a look at the map for you.”

“Am fine,” Geno mumbles. He has the map out but he quickly folds it up and jams it into his bag.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Sid calls after him as Geno keeps walking. Судьба seems conflicted but eventually trots after Geno. “It’s just going to be weird and awkward between us for the rest of our lives?”

“Is not weird, Sid,” Geno calls back. “Sorry if you feel weird.”

Sid throws his head back and stares up at the blue sky through the limbs and leaves. “Listen, Geno, can we please just —” He stops talking when he looks ahead and sees that Geno has stopped walking.

The road forks, the paved road leading to the right while a dirt road veers off to the left.

“Driveway,” Geno says as he twists around to look at Sid. “Maybe there's house up there.”

With the hostilities on hold as they discuss short-term survival plans, Sid jogs to catch up.

“It’s probably an old logging road or something,” he says. “I doubt you’d find a house way out here.”

“Look too narrow for logging road,” Geno says. “I think we go look, is going to be dark soon. Maybe we find some shelter.”

Not feeling like he’s in a spot to argue, Sid nods and together they start up the dirt road.

The road is steep and winding and Sid has to admit that there’s no way a logging truck would be able to navigate the turns. There are, however, deep ruts in the mud that look like they came from some type of four-wheel drive vehicle.

“Someone been here,” Geno says as his foot slips in the mud. “Not long ago.”

They keep walking, sticking to the edge of the road where the mud is the driest. The road goes up and turns to the left and a cabin finally comes into view.

It’s basic and rustic, maybe thirty feet long with a porch that runs along the front and a stone chimney sticking out of the roof. It’s surrounded by trees and there’s a small pond out back with a shoddily constructed dock extending out into the water.

It would look right at home in the seventeen or eighteen hundreds if not for the solar panels mounted on the roof and the mud-splattered Jeep parked off to the side.

“What you think?” Geno asks him. Sid shakes his head.

“It seems shady. I don’t like it. We’re out here in the middle of nowhere … how do we know whoever is here isn’t some kind of doomsday prepper or crazy survivalist who has the whole place booby-trapped?”

“May not even be alive,” Geno says. “No one else has been.”

“We’re way beyond the suburbs, Geno. If you’re going to live out here off the grid like this, you have to know what you’re doing.”

“Would have food and water, then, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course but--.”

“Okay, so we go and look for food and water I give away. Find replacement.”

He starts to walk forward and Sid grabs his arm to pull him back.

“This is about the water? I don’t care about the water, Geno. It’s over, I’m over it.”

“You act like you care,” Geno says as he shakes off Sid’s hand.

Sid’s quick to follow after, voice dropping to a whisper as they get closer to the cabin. “You are so stubborn,” Sid snaps. “You’re going to get us killed by some crazy cabin guy who has been preparing for the end of the world for his entire life because I overreacted about three bottles of water.”

“Is he that crazy if it is actually end of world?” Geno asks as he drops his bag on the steps leading up to the porch so it won’t slow him down but will be easy to grab if they have to leave in a hurry. Sid does the same as Судьба jumps up onto the railing. Geno gives her a quick pet before he plasters himself to the space next to the window and peeks in.

Sid slides in behind him, ready to fight or ready to run in equal measure.

Geno stands on his toes and leans forwards and backwards, high and low, trying to get a full view of the inside of the cabin before he slinks toward the door.

Sid pauses at the window to take a look before following. The inside of the cabin is just as shabby as the outside but clearly lived in with an unmade bed and dishes on the counter in the small kitchen. He can’t see any movement, from anyone, alive or dead.

The front door is propped open a few inches and Geno slowly pushes it with the end of his bat until it’s wide enough for him to slip through.

There’s food out on the counter and clothes on the floor and the top of the wood stove in the middle of the room is warm to the touch when Sid lays his hand across it.

Someone has been here recently and Sid’s sure it’s only a matter of time before they come back.

“Let’s be quick about this,” Sid says as he opens a cupboard and pulls out a box of oatmeal from the back. “I don’t want to be here when they get back. There’s a lot of stuff here,” he says as he grabs a bag of beef jerky. “It’s possible he won’t know we’ve even taken anything.”

“How ’bout we take this?” Geno asks and when Sid looks over his shoulder he can see that Geno’s swinging the keys to the Jeep around his index finger.

“He’s definitely going to notice that’s missing. C’mon, get serious. Find some water.”

Geno looks down at the sink then turns the handle on the ancient faucet. It sputters for a moment before water begins to flow and Geno gasps and immediately cups his hands beneath the stream and brings them to his mouth.

“Is cold!” He shouts in excitement before he leans down and splashes a handful on his face. “You think there is shower, too?”

“We’re not showering here,” Sid tells him.

“What about toilet? No more shitting in woods.”

“We’re not using this guy's bathroom, Geno, c’mon. We have to go.”

Geno waves a hand and steps out of the kitchen area on a hunt for the bathroom. Sid crosses the space and turns off the faucet as Geno throws open the curtain on what turns out to be a fully stocked pantry. He groans and keeps moving, opening the next door before taking a step back.

The closet is filled with weapons. There are at least a dozen guns and enough ammo to last for years and years to come. There are knives of all different sizes, from a small paring knife all the way to a machete, and other assorted handheld weapons like crowbars and screwdrivers.

If those are the weapons that whoever lives here has chosen to leave behind, Sid definitely doesn’t want to see the ones that have been taken into the woods.

“Okay,” Geno says as he softly closes the door. “Maybe we go quick.”

“Good idea,” Sid answers as he darts back to the kitchen. “Grab our bags so we can fill them up and then we can go.”

He pulls more food out of the cabinets beside the sink and takes his bag when Geno hands it to him. Geno hits the pantry, grabbing whatever he can get his hands on and shoving them into his bag.

Sid keeps glancing out of the window over the sink, eyes scanning the treeline for a moment before he redirects his attention back to the bottle he’s filling. He looks out the window again and lets his eyes linger for a moment longer. They catch on something on the ground just to the left of a pile of chopped wood.

“Hey,” Sid says to Geno when he figures out what he’s looking at. “You can relax. We don’t have to hurry.”

Geno looks up at him from where he’s kneeling on the floor, bags of dried beans in each hand. “Why?”

It’s clear that the man had been crawling toward the house when he died, both arms stretched out in front of him and one leg bent like he was trying to push himself along.

His other leg is pinned beneath a large log, an ax lying in the grass not too far away.

The blood is still tacky and present on the surface of the dirt and, even though the body is cold, it doesn’t look like it’s been picked over by scavengers yet. He hasn’t been dead long.

“He cut off own leg,” Geno says quietly as he looks over the scene.

“I don’t think he had much of a choice,” Sid says as he kicks at the fallen log with his foot. It doesn’t budge. “No way he could move that thing on his own. Fuck.” He shakes his head. “I can’t even imagine how he must have been feeling.” Hopeless, alone. He had to know he wouldn’t survive this but he fought until his last breath, trying to drag himself back to the house.

“I’m go find shovels,” Geno says and Sid looks up at him.

“Why?”

“So we can bury him?”

“Why?”

Geno’s expression goes pinched with annoyance. “Is a person, Sid. You would just leave like this?”

“We’ve killed dozens and dozens of people and we never stopped to bury them.”

“Walkers, Sid, not people. Is different.” He points a finger at Sid. “You used to know it was different. Can go inside if you don’t want to help, but I’m going to bury.” He brushes past Sid and disappears around the side of the house.

Apparently they’re fighting again. Sid almost wishes the threat of a gun-toting survivalist attacking them was still valid.

Geno only finds one shovel and Sid very nearly has to pry it out of Geno’s hands so he can take over and they can take turns.

Geno winds up digging the last foot just as the sun’s going down. At his insistence, Sid goes inside to find something for dinner and to get a better look at the contents of the cabin.

He grabs dried pasta and a can of tomato sauce and fills a pot full of water and sets it to boil on the gas stove.

While he waits he takes another, calmer look through the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. He finds cutlery and mismatched dinnerware and cutting boards. He also finds a basket full of seed packets, different herbs and vegetables that should have been planted in the ground weeks, if not months ago.

With the water still at only a simmer, he leaves the kitchen for the bedroom. Судьба has claimed the bed for her own and is stretched out in the middle. Sid sits down on the edge and shuffles through the books that are stacked on the nightstand.

_The Preppers Pocket Guide. Realistic Bug-Out Bag. Preparedness Now! 100 Deadly Skills. Survival Medicine and First Aid._

Sid flips through them quickly and finds pages that are dog-eared and passages that are marked up with pen and gets the feeling that this guy was in over his head. He had all the pieces to survive out here on his own but he still had a lot to learn.

He stands and nearly trips over a camouflage camping bag that’s sticking out from beneath the bed. There are more books inside along with an extensive first-aid kit and important personal documents like bank statements, the title and registration for the Jeep and his Social Security card. The guy's name was James E. Miller, and when Sid finds his license tucked between a wad of cash and his debit card, he finds out he was only twenty four years old.

Sid looks up when he hears the water begin to boil over and he quickly across the cabin and lowers the temperature before he adds the pasta.

He pokes around the cabin more while he waits for it to cook. There is a bathroom with a composting toilet and a shower that looks too cramped and narrow to fit either him or Geno, although he’s sure Geno will try.

Once the pasta is cooked he drains it, pours it back into the pot and tops it with the warm tomato sauce. It’s hardly a five-star meal but it might be the most complete one they’ve eaten in ages.

He sets the table — a small, rickety thing that wobbles when you put too much weight on one side — and looks out the kitchen window. Geno’s lit only by moonlight but Sid can see he’s done digging and has moved on to struggling to pull James’ body into the hole.

Sid sighs and grabs the lantern off the counter before he heads outside.

“Let me help you,” he calls to Geno, getting only a grunt in return as Geno gives James’ arms another tug. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Am fine,” Geno says, but he backs off and wipes the back of his hand across his forehead when Sid sets the lantern down and positions himself at James’ feet.

“On three?” Sid asks as he gets a good grip on his ankles. “Okay?”

Geno takes a deep breath and nods and hooks his hands beneath James’ arms. Together they get his body into the grave but, before Sid can grab the shovel and begin to cover him, Geno stops him and points to the leg.

“Not all there,” he says,. “Am going to need help.”

It’s a struggle, but together they get the log to roll backwards just enough for Geno to grab the leg and place it in the grave with James.

Geno sits down on the log and watches as Sid covers him with the first shovel full of dirt. “Thank you,” Geno says and Sid nods and goes back for another heap of dirt.

“His name was James,” Sid tells him. “I found some paperwork inside with his name on it. I don’t think he really knew what he was doing out here, he was so young. If this didn’t happen, I don’t really know how long he would’ve made it out here. It might have been some other accident that did him in.” Sid sighs and jams the shovel into the ground so he can look at Geno. “But his name was James and he was a person. He tried to survive and that’s a lot. He didn’t deserve this.”

Geno’s quiet for a moment and Sid gets back to work as the woods come alive around them. There are fireflies and crickets and frogs chirping. In the distance a pack of coyotes begin to howl and yip.

“Судьба inside?” Geno asks Sid nods.

“Asleep on the bed.”

Geno laughs and pushes himself to his feet. “She lives good life,” he says as he picks up the ax from the ground and uses the flat side of the blade to help move the dirt.

Dinner is still warm by the time they wash up and sit down to eat.

Just as Sid thought, the food is nothing special but it’s warm and was prepared indoors and that does wonders for the taste.

They eat quickly and, just as Geno’s about to take his last bite, Sid speaks.

“There’s a shower, you know.”

Geno nods as he chews. “I see when I wash my hands. Is small.”

“Yeah,” Sid says. “Probably still feels good, though.”

Geno nods and looks forlornly at their dirty dishes. Sid reaches for his hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Go,” he says, “I’ll clean up.”

Geno looks over Sid’s shoulder in the direction of the bathroom. “You sure?”

Sid nods and Geno springs up, knees hitting the bottom of the table so hard that Sid has to slap his hands down to keep it from flipping.

Geno leans over and presses a kiss to Sid’s hair. “Will be quick,” he says and Sid laughs.

“You might have to be. I have no idea how much water is left in the tank.”

Geno strips off his shirt before he’s even in the bathroom, tossing it toward the bed, where Судьба immediately wakes and moves to curl up on it.

He grabs soap and a half empty bottle of shampoo out of his bag before he heads into the bathroom and turns on the water.

Geno sings off key while he showers, the bathroom door left open so Sid can hear it all. He turns the water off as he washes his body and hair and comments on how it doesn’t really get hot, but is quick to point out that he’s not complaining.

When the water shuts off for the last time, Geno goes quiet and Sid finishes washing and drying the dishes in silence. By the time he’s done Geno still hasn’t come out of the bathroom and he hasn’t heard a sound in more than ten minutes.

“Are you doing okay in there?” he asks as he loops the damp dish cloth over the handle of the stove. “I’m getting worried,” he jokes.

He turns just as Geno steps out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and face freshly shaven.

“Hey,” Sid says as he crosses the room toward him. “Look at you. You look like a new man.”

Geno ducks his head. “Found bag under sink,” he says. “Had some new razors, soap, shampoo.” He shrugs and Sid reaches out to rub at a spot of foam on Geno’s jaw. “Shaving cream,” Geno says.

“You look good,” Sid tells him. “You look like yourself again.”

“Feel good,” Geno says. “Also find this.” He ducks back into the bathroom and comes out with a pair of barber scissors. He pulls at his hair with his other hand and holds the scissors out to Sid. “Was thinking maybe you could help.”

Sid takes the scissors. “How short do you want it?”

Geno wants it short enough that he won’t have to cut it again for a while but Sid errs on the side of caution and leaves it longer on top because he likes to run his fingers through it. He’s not sure he’s still allowed to do that. It doesn’t feel like they’re fighting anymore but it also doesn't feel like everything is okay. There’s tension, and being crammed into a small room together is doing nothing to alleviate it.

He’d rather have Geno as a friend than lose him altogether, but now that they’ve been more than that … Sid wants to hold onto it.

“I’m sorry,” he says and Geno’s hands fly up to his hair.

“Why?” he asks in a panic. “What you do?”

“No,” Sid says softly as he sets the scissors down and gently moves Geno’s hands back to his side. “You’re fine.” He steps around Geno, wedging himself between the sink and Geno’s knees as Geno looks up at him from where he’s sitting on the closed toilet seat cover.

“I’m sorry I’m not bringing you home.”

Geno shakes his head. “Pittsburgh is too dangerous. I know this.”

“No,” Sid says. “I’m not talking about Pittsburgh. I’m talking about Magnitogorsk. I’ve dragged you across the country looking for Taylor and now we’re going back to Cole Harbor, but that’s not your home. I’m sorry I’m not taking you home.”

“Is not possible, Sid. I know this. No one can get us there, not even you. And you can do anything.”

Sid laughs humorlessly and Geno taps his hand over Sid’s heart like he used to do before they took the ice.

“Right here,” he says and pulls his hand back to gesture between them. “Home is right here now. Has been for a long time.”

Sid squeezes his eyes shut and Geno drops his hand to Sid’s waist.

“I’m not who I used to be.”

“Neither am I.”

Sid opens his eyes even though he can feel the way they’re welling up with tears. “You are. You take care of Судьба every day.”

“Hey,” Geno says with a soft smile as he squeezes Sid’s hips. “You almost say right that time.”

Sid laughs and ducks his head. “I’m trying.” When he looks up he puts his hands on Geno’s shoulders then slides them up to the sides of his neck. “You put up with me day after day and you love me, even when I don’t deserve it.”

“Sid —”

“I love you,” Sid says. “I do love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I should’ve said it sooner. If I could go back I would’ve told you after we won the Cup. The first time.”

“Sid,” Geno says. He sounds like he doesn’t believe him and Sid shakes his head.

“It’s true. I would’ve kissed you in the middle of the locker room all covered in champagne. I would’ve told the guys and my parents and anyone who would listen. I could have given us so much more time.”

“Have time now,” Geno insists. Sid runs the pads of his thumbs across Geno’s cheeks. He can feel a patch of stubble that Geno missed when he shaved on the right side.

“I don’t know if I believe that there’s something waiting for me in Cole Harbour,” Sid says. “I don’t think I can let myself believe it, so you are the only thing that matters to me. Everything I do is to make sure you’re safe. It’s why I didn’t want to help Andrew and his father. It’s why I didn’t want to come here. Those were risks, and I won’t risk your life. I don’t know what I would do without you. I don’t think I could survive it.”

Geno stands and keeps his hands on Sid’s body as Sid crosses his arms behind Geno’s neck. “You love me?” he asks and Sid nods.

“More than anything.”

Geno wraps his arms around Sid and links his hands together at the small of his back. “We could stay,” Geno tells him. “Think we could survive here, be happy. Have food and water and protection. Might have to learn how to hunt.” His nose wrinkles at the thought and Sid steps forward and tucks his head beneath Geno’s chin. “But we could stay. Could have a life here.”

“You want to keep going,” Sid says and Geno takes a deep breath.

“Just want to be with you. If you say enough, if you want to stop, then we stop.” He pulls back and kisses the top of Sid’s head and, when Sid tips his head back, Geno leans down to kiss his lips. “Sleep on it,” Geno tells him as he unwinds his arms from Sid’s back. “Don’t have to decide now.”

The mattress on the bed is old and lumpy and the pillows are flat but they curl together on it anyways with Судьба asleep on Geno’s shirt at their feet.

Geno falls asleep first, snoring lightly into the curve of Sid’s neck. It’s hot and sticky and altogether uncomfortable but Sid wouldn’t dream of moving away. Instead, he shifts closer, tangling their legs together and drawing lazy circles across Geno’s shoulder blades.

When he wakes in the morning they’re still entwined.

Sid’s up before the sun and he waits and watches the first light fall across Geno’s face before he gets up.

He feeds Судьба and takes a quick shower while Geno sleeps. He shaves and dresses then begins to load up the Jeep. He’s on his third trip when he comes in and finds Geno sitting up in bed rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey,” Sid says as Судьба prances across the floor and jumps onto the bed to say good morning to Geno herself. “I can make us some oatmeal for breakfast. I found some dried fruit we can add to it if you want.” Sid sits on the end of the bed, one leg tucked beneath him. “After that I think we should get going. I found three cans of gas in the back of the Jeep. That’s more than enough to get us to Cole Harbour.” He reaches out and squeezes Geno’s ankle over the covers. “What do you think?”

Geno blinks at him, brain still foggy with sleep. “I think oatmeal is good.”

They take everything.

The food and the weapons and the books on the nightstand. They pack the Jeep as full as they can while making sure they still have room for Судьба.

“Too bad we couldn’t take the shower,” Sid says, “I know you’ll miss it.”

Geno catches him around the waist before he can take the stairs up to the cabin. “You sure about going?” he asks and Sid nods.

“I have to know,” Sid says. “If they’re there or if they’re not, I have to see for myself. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering _what if_ , you know?”

Geno nods. “Is brave of you,” he says. “But you right. Will miss shower.”

Sid laughs and pats his chest reassuringly. When he tries to step away, Geno pulls him in closer for a kiss.

“Forgot to tell you how good you look,” he says as he brings his hand up to cup Sid’s smooth cheek. “Hair still long though.”

“I didn’t want to wake you up to ask for help. Maybe later, though.”

Geno hums and winds a curl around his finger. “Maybe not,” he says before he leans down for an even longer kiss.

After studying the map, Sid predicts that they could make it to Cole Harbour in about thirteen hours.

“If we push it,” Sid says from the passenger seat as Geno drives, “and we don’t hit any roadblocks.”

“Want to push?” Geno asks. “Will be late when we get there.”

“It should still be light,” Sid says. They had gotten an early start and it stays light late in the summer. “We could make it.”

Geno nods and puts his hand on Sid’s thigh. “Okay,” he says, “we make it.”

It’s an easy ride through Vermont and New Hampshire and into Maine.

They ride with the windows rolled all the way down, Судьба in Sid’s lap, tipping her face up so she can feel the breeze.

They save time by bypassing small towns and farming communities. The Jeep couldn’t possibly hold another thing. They have enough food to last them a long while and, in this part of the country, fresh water isn’t hard to come by.

Sid feels safe and secure for the first time in a long while and, when they stop to stretch their legs just before the Canadian border, he offers to take over driving.

“I don’t need the map,” Sid says as he starts the Jeep. “I’ve done this before.”

Geno’s slow to fold the map. “When you drive to Canada?”

“I’ve done it a few times with Nate,” he says. He nearly trips over the name, emotion thick in his throat. “He’d come to Pittsburgh once the season was done and we’d drive up from there.”

“Never know that.”

“It was after you left for the summer. You were always quick to leave.”

“If we not win Cup then why stay?”

Sid shrugs as he starts driving.

“Was it fun?” Geno asks.

“Driving up here? Nate was …” He stops and sighs. “Nate was Nate. He tried to make everything fun.”

Geno’s quiet for a moment before he asks, “I’m more fun though, yeah?”

Sid laughs, the emotional tension bursting like a bubble. He holds his hand palm up on his thigh and Geno places his hand on top so they can link their fingers together. “Traveling with you does have certain advantages,” Sid says. The smile on his face falters and Geno brings their hands to his lips so he can press a kiss to Sid’s knuckles.

“Glad you have good memories,” Geno says softly and Sid nods.

“Me, too.”

They make it through New Brunswick and cross into Nova Scotia just as the sun begins to set. It’s last light as they pull down the street where Sid grew up.

The drive through town had been uneventful. There was the occasional walker that lifted its head when it heard the engine and a few that tried to give chase, but the road to his parent’s place is deathly quiet.

There are no signs of life. No breeze blowing. It’s still and stagnant and, when he pulls into the drive, he feels dread build in the pit of his stomach.

“This it?” Geno asks and Sid nods.

“There are no cars in the driveway,” he says as he turns off the Jeep. “My parents each have a car. There should be two.”

“Maybe in garage.”

Sid laughs as he unbuckles his seat belt. “You can’t fit a car in the garage. There’s too much stuff.”

“Maybe they clean?”

Sid doubts it and he almost rolls his eyes but he stops himself when he catches the sincere look on Geno’s face.

Sid lays a hand against Geno’s cheek and Geno turns to kiss the center of his palm.

“I love you,” Sid tells him.

“Don’t have to go in,” Geno says. “I can go check.”

Sid shakes his head and lowers his hand. “No. I made you do that with Taylor. I have to do this myself. I have to see.” He pops open the door then looks back to Geno. “You’ll come with me though, right?”

Geno smiles. “Am right behind.”

Geno follows close behind him on the walk up to the house. They’re both armed with knives and flashlights they took from the cabin.

“Whenever you ready,” Geno says when Sid stops at the front door. “Can take time.”

“I just want to get this over with,” Sid answers as he puts his hand on the door knob. It turns, unlocked, and they both step through.

The house is dark and quiet and smells musty. Sid can tell that no one living has been here in quite a while.

“We should split up,” Sid whispers. “I’ll take the upstairs and you take the downstairs. Be careful when you check the basement.”

“Okay,” Geno says. “But if I find and they … you want me to wait and tell or just ...”

“No, I don’t need to be there. Just do it. But be careful, okay?” “You too,” Geno tells him. “And if you need me —”

“I’ll call,” Sid interrupts. “I promise. I love you.”

“You say like is last time you ever say it.”

“In this world you never know.” Geno makes a distressed sound and steps forward to press a hard kiss to Sid’s lips. “I love you,” he says. “And I will say it again soon and then hundreds of times after that, okay?”

“Okay,” Sid says softly and Geno kisses him once more before they part.

Sid climbs the stairs slowly, careful to avoid the fourth step that always squeaked. He methodically checks each room, the beam of the flashlight reflecting off picture frames and mirrors. They’re all empty. Taylor’s room, his parent’s room, his old room. There’s no signs of anyone living or dead.

Geno’s in the kitchen when he comes back downstairs and, when Sid pans his light over him, he can see that his knife is clean.

“Nothing,” Geno tells him. “No one.”

“Upstairs is empty, too,” Sid says as he leans against the counter. “They’re not here.”

Geno sets the knife down and puts his hand on Sid’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sid.”

“Don’t be. You got me home. I never would have made it here on my own. You’ve done so much for me.”

“Wish it could be more.”

Sid shakes his head and folds his body into Geno’s and Geno holds him until his stomach rumbles.

“Didn’t stop for lunch,” Geno says with a laugh as Sid slowly pulls away. “I go get food and Судьба from the car. Will bring in our things.”

“I can help,” Sid says, but Geno stops him.

“Stay,” he says as he shines the light onto the kitchen table. “Sit. Will be back soon.”

Sid picks at his dinner of dry cereal and beef jerky. He’s not hungry even though he knows his body should be starving.

“Should eat,” Geno says as he pops another handful of cereal into his mouth. “At least drink.”

He pushes the water bottle toward him and Sid grabs it.

“Is it okay if I go lie down?” he asks before shaking his head. “Sorry, it’s just sitting here … I’m used to asking permission before I get up from dinner.” He stands and pushes his chair in. “I’ll be upstairs,” he says as he runs his fingers through Geno’s hair. “Come up when you’re done, okay?”

“Of course,” Geno says and Sid bends down to kiss his forehead before he starts upstairs.

His childhood bedroom is mostly the same as he left it all those years ago. He feels like he didn’t get to spend much time here, leaving to live with host families when he was a teen. He didn’t get homesick back then, not when he left for the Q or for Pittsburgh. But now, lying on his old twin bed, he finally feels the ache.

He digs up old memories of this house — breakfasts on Sunday mornings, birthday parties, playing hockey in the basement and babysitting Taylor — to try to make himself feel better and make the bitter ache turn sweet. It works, mostly, but he still feels his eyes begin to well up. He blinks rapidly and catches sight of a shadow in the doorway.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asks Geno. Geno shakes his head.

“Not too long. Think maybe you want to be alone for little bit.”

“Never,” Sid says as he sits up and rests his back against the headboard. “Come in.”

Geno steps into the room and is immediately bathed in the moonlight coming through the window. He has his hands in his pockets as he glances around the room.

“Is like how you left it?” he asks and Sid nods.

“Pretty much. The bedspread used to have hockey sticks on it but besides that …”

“Is nice they keep like this,” Geno says. “Is cute.”

“I think they were keeping it in case of grandkids, you know, so they’d have a place to stay. Guess that didn’t work out.”

Geno hums and stops to look at the shelves filled with medals and awards. He shines his light on them so he can read the inscriptions.

“There used to be more of those,” Sid says and Geno huffs.

“Sidney Crosby win so many awards that can't even fit on shelves. Maybe they move to garage and that’s why no cars can fit. All filled with your trophies.”

“I’m just saying,” Sid says. “That’s not all of them.”

Geno waves a hand as he continues on, watching Sid age by way of the engraved dates. He stops at a photo of Sid and his parents and Taylor on the ice after the ’09 Cup win.

“Is nothing for last year,” Geno points out and Sid shrugs. Last summer was busy. It’s possible his mother hadn’t gotten around to framing a photo yet. “Here,” Geno says as he pulls something of his back pocket. He unrolls it and Sid immediately recognizes the Penguins logo and the Stanley Cup.

“Where did you get that?” he asks as Geno carefully displays it on a free spot on the shelf.

“Taylor’s room at college.”

“You stole?”

“I borrow,” Geno defends and Sid laughs softly. “Couldn’t leave behind. Too many good memories.”

“Some of the best,” Sid agrees and Geno turns to face him.

“What we do now?” Geno asks. “Where we go?”

“In the morning,” Sid starts, “we should go to my place. It’s not too far from here and it’s on the lake … there’s a gate that won’t work since the power is out but we can get over it. The Jeep will have to stay on the other side but it’s pretty quiet out that way. It should be okay. But for right now —” He pats the bed beside him and Geno smiles and crosses the short distance between them.

“Don’t know if we both fit,” he says as he gets a knee up on the bed.

Sid moves over and slumps down against the pillows to make more room.

It’s a tight fit. Despite the weight they’ve lost, Geno is still all arms and legs and he ends up half on top of Sid trying to make it work.

“Stay,” Sid says, tangling his fingers in the front of Geno’s shirt when Geno tries to shift away. “This is good.”

“Yeah?” Geno asks as Sid trails his fingers down beneath the fabric and spreads them out over Geno’s skin. “You want more or …?”

Sid spreads his hand out over Geno’s rapidly beating heart. He’s warm and alive and they’ve traveled for days and months and years to get here. The events leading up to this moment have been unexpected and tragic, but this is always where Sid wanted to end up, safe beneath the solid weight of Geno.

He tilts his head up for a kiss that quickly turns heated and he wraps his arms around Geno and tugs at his shirt, pulling and pushing it up until it’s stuck under Geno’s arms.

“Okay,” Geno says, kissing him quickly before he sits back against Sid’s thighs and pulls the shirt over his head. He drops it to the floor then lets his hands hover over the button of Sid’s jeans. “Okay?” he asks and Sid nods.

“More than.”

Geno undoes the button while Sid pulls off his own shirt, breath catching as the back of Geno’s hand brushes against his dick.

“I love you,” Sid says and Geno leans back down to kiss him. He trails his lips across Sid’s jaw and neck, pausing briefly to suck a mark into the skin there and bite at his shoulder.

He knee walks backwards, fingers hooked in the band of Sid’s jeans, pulling them off as he goes. He nearly falls off the end of the bed and Sid laughs as Geno curses.

“Stop,” Geno says as he pinches Sid’s hip. “Is your fault we do on smallest bed ever.”

“It’s better than the ground,” Sid says.

Geno rolls his eyes and hooks his hands behind Sid’s knees so he can pull him down the bed. “What is different if I still end up on it?” Geno says as he kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed. He smooths his hands over Sid’s thighs and looks up at him. “I love you,” he says and Sid reaches down and cups the side of Geno’s face.

Sid keeps his eyes open and locked on Geno wanting to see as much as possible. He manages until Geno wraps his lips around him and his eyes flutter closed.

Судьба wakes Sid in the morning by stepping on his chest and putting all her weight on one foot.

He groans and Geno is quick to react, rolling out of bed and scooping her up.

Sid cracks an eye open and sees Geno standing there shirtless with Судьба in his arms.

“I’m go feed,” Geno says. “You sleep more.”

Sid closes his eyes but mumbles, “I’ll be down soon.”

“Sure you will,” Geno says as he kisses Sid’s temple.

Sid listens to his footsteps travel down the hall and the stairs, the fourth one from the bottom squeaking when Geno hits it, before he falls back to sleep.

He wakes the second time on his own, the sun shining in his eyes and a bird outside the window chirping away.

He finds Geno downstairs going through the kitchen cabinets. Судьба is on the counter, an empty cat food can in front of her.

“Good morning,” Sid says, petting Судьба’s head.

“Morning,” Geno says back, then adds, “is no food here.”

“We have food in the Jeep.”

“I’m know but —” He closes the cabinet door and looks at Sid. “Is nothing. Not even little bit.”

“Someone got here before we did. The door was unlocked.”

“Know what else … no pictures. No photos on walls or anything.”

He points into the living broom at the bare walls and empty mantle.

“Is weird, yeah?”

“No, they took them when they went wherever they went.”

Geno rolls his eyes. “End of world starts, everyone in panic and your parents stop and take photos off wall?”

Sid sighs. “I don’t know. They’re parents. They think about things like that.”

“Or, they not leave in hurry. They have plan. Where you think—”

“Hey.” Sid cuts him off and hauls him in for a kiss. “Let’s leave it. It’s you and me, that’s enough. Let’s just have breakfast, go to my place and take it from there, okay?”

Geno nods. “Okay. Have to go to car to get breakfast. Only bring in dinner last night.”

Sid lets him go and says hello to Судьба. “I forgive you for stepping on me,” he says as she purrs.

“Sid.”

Geno’s back on the kitchen, mouth set in a thin line and body held tight with tension.

“Someone is breaking into car.”

Sid blinks at him. “What?”

“Someone is breaking into car,” Geno repeats as he grabs Sid’s arm and pulls him toward the front picture window.

“See,” Geno says as they peek out at the car. There’s a person standing at the passenger-side door holding a metal rod against the window. They’re in shorts and heavy hiking boots and an oversized T-shirt with a tan bucket hat on their head. Sid’s father used to have one just like it.

Most notably is the rifle hanging over one shoulder and an empty duffel bag hanging over the other. They’re obviously here to take what they can get and they have the firepower to do it.

“Think they trying to unlock it, you know like, with that thing that goes between window. What they call it?”

“A slim jim,” Sid answers. “I think.”

“What we do? Can’t let them take stuff.”

“No,” Sid says, distracted and thinking. “You left all the guns in the car?” he asks and Geno nods.

“Didn’t think to bring them in. Didn’t think anyone alive here.”

“The revolver,” Sid says as he moves back into the kitchen where Geno dropped their things last night. “It’s in my bag.”

“Is only one bullet left,” Geno says as Sid takes the gun out.

“Yeah, but they don’t have to know that.”

“Sid,” Geno says sounding worried, “don’t know, maybe we just let them take. Is small bag they have and a lot of stuff in car … can’t take it all. Is it worth it?”

“There’s no food here,” Sid tells him. “There’s no food at my house. I closed it up for the winter when I left to go to Pittsburgh last fall. What’s in that Jeep is all we have. We’ve come too far to get it all taken away by some asshole.” He puts his hand on Geno’s shoulder and squeezes. “It’ll be okay. I probably won’t even need this, it’s just in case. You can wait inside.”

Geno rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’m right behind you.”

They make their way to the front door and, as soon as Sid opens it, any hope that this would end without confrontation disappears.

The person turns, swinging their rifle off their shoulder and pointing it toward the house. Sid steps out onto the front steps, revolved raised. He hopes they can’t see the way his finger shakes on the trigger.

“Relax,” Sid calls. “It doesn’t have to be like this. If you need help —”

“I don’t need your help,” the person yells back. It’s a woman and her voice sounds so familiar … “What are you doing in my parents’ house?”

“Your parents’ house?” Sid yells. “This is my —” He stops and takes a good look at the woman. She has blonde hair that’s falling free beneath the hat and she’s wearing a shirt with his hockey school’s logo on it. “Taylor?” He asks and she lowers the gun, revealing her face.

“Sid?”

Sid pushes the gun back toward Geno so he can run down the stairs while Taylor sets her rifle on the ground and runs forward. They meet halfway, Taylor hitting him with so much force that he stumbles backwards and struggles to stay on his feet as he wraps his arms around her. Her hat has fallen off and she’s crying — sobbing — into his shoulder. Sid can’t say he’s doing any better, clutching tightly at her and crying into her hair.

“How are you here?” Taylor asks once her sobs subside. She still has her face buried in Sid’s shoulder. “You were in California, how are you here?”

“It was a journey,” Sid says with a wet laugh. “We —”

Taylor pulls back and looks up at Sid. “We?”

“Geno,” Sid says as he tips his head back toward the house, where Geno is still standing in the doorway. “We came looking for you.”

Taylor looks up at Geno then back to Sid, still teary-eyed, but her smile spreads across her whole face. “I can’t believe it,” she says. “I thought you were dead. I thought there was no way … I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Oh, my god, Mom’s gonna freak.”

Sid grabs at her. “Mom?”

Taylor nods. “Mom, Dad, Sam,” she says. “We’re all okay, we’re all alive. We’re at your place, along with a couple of neighbors. You know, the ones we like.”

Sid laughs and Taylor hugs him again. “Mom and Dad were still here when I got here —”

“How did you get here?” Sid asks.

“Probably the same as you. Walked a lot, drove a little. When it happened, the school had no idea how to handle it. They wanted us all to shelter in place. I didn’t buy it. I didn’t want to just sit there while the world fell apart around me, so my roommate and a friend of ours were going to leave. I was packing up when my roommate started to turn.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “I had to ...” She trails off. “I had just … you know, and looked up at my other friend and I saw she was gone, too. I couldn’t do it again, you know? I couldn't kill again, so I pushed her into the bathroom and ran.”

“I know,” Sid says. “We were there. We saw.”

“You were there?”

“That was our first stop. I called you, I heard you, you were alive. I had to find you so we went. We looked for you and, when we couldn’t find you, Geno convinced me to come here. He thought we’d find you.”

“Thank god for Geno,” Taylor says and Sid smiles.

“You have no idea.”

“What about you? How’d you get out of San Jose? Where’d you get the Jeep? Where’d you get all the stuff?” He looks up at Geno as Судьба steps out the door beside him. “Where’d you get the cat?”

“It’s a long story,” Sid says. “How about we tell you on the way to my place?”

Taylor barely fits in the Jeep. She has to squeeze in the spot they left for Судьба. Thankfully Судьба doesn’t mind. She quickly decides that she loves Taylor and curls up in her lap, purring as Taylor pets her.

She seems impressed at how far they’ve come and unfazed when Sid takes his hand off the wheel so he can reach for Geno’s.

“About time,” she says as she scratches Судьба’s nose. “There’s no way I could deal with Sid pining for you, Geno, on top of everything else.”

“You pined?” Geno asks, smug smile on his face and Sid shakes his head.

“No. Not at all.”

Geno turns to look back at Taylor and Sid watches her roll her eyes and nod her head in the rear view.

The gate to Sid’s house is held together with a bungee cord and Taylor hops out to undo it so Sid can drive through. She secures it and gets back in and Sid feels the nervous excitement growing in his stomach as he continues up the drive.

When he parks outside the house, Taylor jumps out before the car has even stopped.

“I’m gonna go find Mom and Dad,” she says. “They might be out back.” Before she takes off she hugs Geno through the open Jeep window. “Thank you,” she tells him. “Thank you for bringing my brother home. I never thought I’d see him again.”

“You welcome,” Geno tells her.

“And I’m glad you’re here, too. You were always my second favorite Pen.”

“Who was first?” Geno jokes and Taylor laughs and pats the side of his face before she takes off, yelling for her parents. From the backyard Sam barks.

Sid gets out of the car and starts for the house. When he doesn’t hear Geno’s footsteps behind him, he turns back around.

Geno’s still standing at the Jeep. He’d gotten Судьба out of the backseat and placed her on the hood.

“What’s the matter?” Sid asks and Geno shrugs.

“Is your family,” Geno says. “Think maybe you want some time.”

“Without you?” Sid shakes his head and holds out his hand. “Come on, you know you’re my family. I love you,” Sid says as Geno steps forward and takes his hand. Sid smiles and leans up for a kiss.

The front door opens and Sid hears his mother calling his name.

“Come on,” Sid says against Geno’s lips. “We’re home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Body Horror- Sid and Geno find an empty cabin in the woods. While looking through it they find a dead man in the backyard. He was chopping wood when his leg was crushed beneath a log. He cut his own leg off and tried to get back to the cabin but bled out before he made it. There isn't a lot of detail involved.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: There's a car accident where a woman is attacked by a zombie. There's blood but nothing too graphic.
> 
> My Tumblr is [here](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/) if you ever have any questions.


End file.
